


Memory Leak

by ReverseMousetrap



Series: After The Gold Rush [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Jack is a creep, M/M, Post-Game(s), gayperion, irresponsible alcohol consumption, more like fluff angst and smut lol, one-sided rhack kinda, references to mental illness and treatment, sex drugs and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:11:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverseMousetrap/pseuds/ReverseMousetrap
Summary: Noun (computing): a failure in a program to release discarded memory, causing impaired performance.The adventure changed them all, and Rhys is starting to see Vaughn in a new light - but the things he's been through are coming back to haunt him.





	1. Hello World

**Author's Note:**

> Tales from the Borderlands gave me my new OTP, and I just had to write fic for it. And then I thought of a plot, and everything kind of went from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noun (programming): a simple program, often used to illustrate the basic syntax of a programming language.

Everybody would have understood if the CEO of New Atlas ruled from the comfort of a climate-controlled office, but Rhys still felt like he had to make amends.

The first order of business was finding a place for a few hundred former Hyperion employees. Despite his best efforts at persuasion, the citizens of Pandora were less than keen on hosting permanent lodgers from the company that had regularly rained fiery death down on their heads. As a result, they were still in the midst of a huge construction project run by people with next to zero construction knowledge and not enough robots.

Rhys’ delicate programmer hand which had so deftly navigated the ECHOnet was scratched to pieces within hours, and the mechanical side was somewhat lacking in fine motor feedback. Even after he learned how not to break toes by dropping roof beams on them, he couldn’t work for long in the desert sun before his scrawny legs would give way under him.

It was one of those days where he ended up sprawled in the shade, desperately pouring water over his face, that he saw Vaughn walk past casually carrying two Technical tyres.

\---

One of the few traditions that carried over from their old life was getting hammered on a Friday. They might throw back a couple of beers with other friends on other nights, but Fridays were for the two of them to keep drinking until the conversation sprung directly from the heart. Sometimes it was fond memories of college, sometimes it was toasts to the co-workers they thought they hated until a bunch of them had burned up on re-entry, and sometimes it just started as complaining about the lack of luxuries on Pandora and devolved into declarations of eternal friendship.

August still owned the Purple Skag, and since his brief stint as a Vault Hunter, customers had flocked to the place. The bar maintained its edgy Hollow Point style, but with room in the budget for subtler security and regular cleaning it attracted even the pickiest of ex-Hyperion employees. Rhys and Vaughn both got massive discounts as a form of ongoing apology, and as the least likely troublemakers they were generally left alone at their favourite table in a dim corner.

There was a new beer on tap, the result of unauthorised experiments at the old Atlas biodome. The early reports of hallucinogenic properties had proven to be false, but it had a pleasant fruity aftertaste and an alcohol percentage that raised some eyebrows. The two men settled into their seats, raised their glasses and started washing away the heat and dust of the day.

Vaughn had looked unusually preoccupied from the time he walked in. Rhys knew that expression well after years of college finals, job interviews and failed-date post-mortems, and he knew that he could wait forever and his friend would still think he was imposing by bringing it up.

“Come on, bro, you can tell me,” he said in his best cajoling voice. “What’s eating you?”

“Can I get your opinion on something? Like, your honest opinion, not just what you think you should say or whatever,” said Vaughn. He was fidgeting with a damp cardboard coaster, tearing it into precise equally-sized squares. Whatever was happening, it was at least a seven out of ten on the stress scale.

“Is…everything okay?”

“Do you think I should get rid of the beard?” he blurted out. There was a pleading look in his eyes.

Rhys tried and failed to hold in his laughter out of consideration, and the result was an ungraceful snort. “ _That’s_ what you’re all torn up about?”

“Just answer the question!”

He paused for a moment to take a proper look and frame a diplomatic answer. “It’s…very manly.”

“You hate it.”

“What? No, I don’t hate it! It’s totally…you know, prophet of the Children of Helios…”

“You really hate it.”

“Hey, it’s not my face, why do you need my opinion?” Rhys threw his hands up defensively. “You do your thing, man.”

Vaughn scratched at his chin. “Actually, it’s kind of annoying.”

“What – why are you even asking me, then? Not fair. That was totally a trap.”

He sighed heavily and stared at the wall. “When it was growing out, it bugged me, but I kept it. Helios was gone, you were gone…” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact. “I just didn’t want to look like the old Vaughn anymore. It felt like another life.”

“Aww, come on. The old Vaughn was totally cool.” Rhys leaned over to give his friend a gentle punch on the shoulder. The mood didn’t usually get so sombre so quickly. It was making him a little uncomfortable.

“Ugh. You and I both know that’s not true. But it’s not just the nerd thing, you know? We were part of this whole other world up there, and it sucked, and now it’s gone. There’s no way I could go back.”

“You don’t miss it? It was fun – all that lying and cheating and screwing people over.” He knew his smile was unconvincing, but he appreciated the fact that his friend still attempted to return it. “Just don’t touch the hair. The hair’s nice.”

Vaughn’s hand flew to his ponytail and Rhys thought he saw a little colour rise in his cheeks. That had always been his reaction to compliments, and it was absolutely endearing. “For real? You’re not being sarcastic?”

“No, seriously. It’s kind of amazing. Saw you with it down the other day. I’m surprised people weren't mobbing you for like, autographs or something.”

The colour graduated to a full blush, and Vaughn hastily tried to hide in his beer. The resulting coughing fit rendered him speechless for a full minute while Rhys patted his arm sympathetically, unable to hide his grin. When his breath came back, tears still in his eyes, Vaughn pulled the band out of his hair, shaking it loose. It really was a sight to behold, falling over his shoulders in loose sun-streaked waves. Rhys was glad he was still on his first beer, or he might have reached out to play with it like some kind of creep.  

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said. “For the record, the beard _is_ kinda goofy. Not as much as that weird goth phase you had in college, but you know...”

“We don’t talk about the goth phase,” Vaughn said sternly. “Unless you want me to remind you about the office Christmas party when –”

 “Oh, hey, wow, I totally forgot to say! I heard from Fiona yesterday,” interrupted Rhys. “That Springs lady offered her a job as Catch-A-Ride’s head of sales. Said it’s what Scooter would have wanted.” He lifted his glass in the small gesture that indicated absent friends. “She’s thinking about it. I told her she’d be great. Fiona could sell teeth to a rakk.”

“Neat. Did she say what Sasha’s up to?”

“Some kind of gun repair gig, I think. The technical details went way over my head, but she’s like a kid in a candy store.”

He drained the rest of his beer. Some days it almost felt like he had been born on Pandora and lived his whole life on the ground. The new normal was treating them all well – in his case, far better than he thought he deserved. Every time he passed through the shadow of Helios, he half hoped someone would punch him in the face to even out his karma. In the meantime, he was determined to keep hauling scrap metal until his back gave out.

They always took turns getting the drinks and it was his round. Wading back through the bar with their second beers, taking care not to get stuck to the floor, Rhys was suddenly struck with an idea.

“Heeeyyyy, so, I need your help with something.”

“Oh yeah?” Vaughn scooted his chair closer and leaned in conspiratorially. He had been a lightweight his whole life; the first drink had made his eyes glaze over a little. Rhys secretly thought it was hilarious, especially with how bad he was at hiding it.

“I was just thinking…you know, maybe I could work out a little. I’m not much use to anyone out there right now, and you’re like…a freaking human Loader-Bot or something.” He scratched the back of his neck, doing his best to look embarrassed.

“You think so?” asked Vaughn, smiling broadly.

“Everyone thinks so! You could be my personal trainer. Did your exercise bike survive the crash?”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding, but I…never went back to my office. I figured either everything was gone, which would have been too depressing, or everything was still there, which would have been too depressing, but like, in a different way.” He traced the rim of his glass with one finger, staring at the reflections in his drink.

Rhys was suddenly animated, and not just from the alcohol hitting his bloodstream. “Maybe we should go together, check out the station properly! Man, I hope they didn’t reassign my desk. What if my Concordia coffee is still there? You used to love stealing that stuff from my office.”

“You know it’s probably all rubble, right?”

“No, wait – look,” he said, bringing up a schematic of Helios on his cybernetic hand. The surviving sections were outlined in yellow; he pointed out one wing that was relatively unscathed despite being half-buried in the sand. “Programming and accounts – all of us nerds were in this bit here. We should be able to get in through one of the engineering hatches.”

“You’re serious about this,” Vaughn said flatly.

“One hundred per cent. Come on, bro. It’ll be fun. Promise.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” He folded his arms. “You know I can never say no to your terrible ideas. But we’ll go after hours when nobody’s there. I don’t want anyone to see me having some kind of flashback-induced breakdown.”

“Might undercut your authority,” teased Rhys.

“Yup. _‘Uneasy is the head that wears the crown’,_ and all that,” Vaughn sighed. “We’ll go tomorrow and get this out of your system, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They shook on it and raised their glasses once more. Planning a foolish adventure in a shady bar brought back the best kind of memories, and soon they were joking and laughing and feeling like they did just after graduation, inboxes bursting with job offers and their whole lives ahead of them.

Later, weaving his way to the station through the newly bustling streets of Hollow Point, Rhys found himself with a little spring in his step that he hadn’t felt in months.


	2. Stress Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (software): a software testing activity that determines the robustness of software by testing beyond the limits of normal operation.

The sun was sinking in the sky, throwing out a wild array of colours as Rhys approached the towering ruin of Helios. The station’s eye watched over the landscape as it always had, but now it was a protector rather than a threat. The scarred metal hull formed a landmark, a shelter from the harsh daylight and a memorial to everything that had been lost to greed and megalomania. So much had changed in one man’s short lifetime.

Years spent on board the behemoth had not prepared Rhys for the sheer scale of its construction. What had seemed like a great idea for a weekend adventure suddenly appeared impossibly daunting for someone whose greatest athletic achievement was three strikes in a row at bowling.

He spotted Vaughn leaning against the base of the station, grinning. As he came closer, Rhys was stunned to see that his face was completely clean-shaven; not even the perennial goatee remained. A few small cuts dotted his chin.

“Whoa, that’s different.”

His friend’s self-assured composure cracked a little. “Different? Don’t tell me you changed your mind. It’ll take months to grow that back!”

Rhys placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You look great, bro! Like a model, but three-quarter scale.” He was being honest. It wasn’t just the face; ever since Vaughn had started walking around with his shoulders back and his head held high, he seemed like a new man. It had occurred to him more than once that it was his turn to worry about being left behind.

They had studied the schematics from various angles, and found the maintenance hatch they were looking for located a few feet off the ground. The door was designed for orbital operation but it activated in response to some persuasion from a crowbar, rusted segments of the iris sliding outwards to reveal a tunnel lit by faint emergency lights. They could hardly see anything beyond the entrance. Rhys directed his flashlight beam into the shadows, revealing little more.

“You first. This was your idea,” said Vaughn cheerfully. He knelt down to offer him a boost. Rhys stepped up on his friend’s hand, steadying himself against the deformed metal, and lifted his top half through the portal.

He was immediately overcome by a rush of dizziness that had him listing dangerously sideways. His feet lost their purchase and he felt like he would be violently ill. Clutching the rim with both hands, he let out a panicked cry for help.

“Oh yeah, we had to switch the artificial gravity back on. So…watch out for that,” Vaughn called out, catching his legs to hold him steady.

“That sounds like something you should have mentioned!” Rhys yelled back.  

“Just don’t look out any windows and you’ll be fine!”

With a determined effort, he hauled himself all the way inside. For a moment he tumbled, weightless, with nothing to guide him, and then he crashed into the wall. His arms shot out either side of him as he tried to find something to grab hold of. A few terrified seconds later, he realised he was not falling. He looked up; he was on the floor of the tunnel, the Hyperion logo visible at regular intervals on the wall as his eyes adjusted.

He heard Vaughn calling out to him. “You okay?”

“Y – yeah, I think so,” he answered in a daze. Rhys propped himself up on all fours, wrapping his fingers around the grating to be on the safe side.  Very slowly, he crawled over to the hatch and steeled himself to peer over the edge.

The distant landscape fell away endlessly, sand and dirt receding like a waterfall, and his stomach did a backflip as his eyes and his body argued over what was real. His knuckles were white with the force of his grip. Just two feet away from his face Vaughn was hovering impossibly below him, waving hello like nothing was wrong. They stared at each other’s upside down faces, and he knew he must have looked as confused as he felt.

“Help me up?”

Rhys extended his mechanical arm through the hole, trying to ignore the feeling of its weight pulling the wrong way. The other man grasped it firmly, combining it with his own strength to gracefully haul himself up and into the gate. Vaughn followed the gravity shift with the precision of experience, making a perfect three-point landing on the tunnel floor.

“Wow.”

He dismissed the compliment with a small shrug and a wave, but he was visibly glowing with smug pride.

“Yeah, climbing up this whole thing vertically wasn’t fun.”

Pulling up the Helios schematic, Rhys double-checked their course. His old office was closer to their position, directly connected to the maintenance shaft a few hundred metres up, so they started in that direction. He led the way, ducking slightly to avoid brushing his hair against the ceiling. He had been in the tunnels only once before, as a last-ditch effort to avoid one of the HR department’s motivational team-building exercises. This time there was only silence from the other side of the walls, which seemed to dull the sound of his echoing footsteps.

When they reached the right vent, he peered up through the slats. Not much was visible apart from his very expensive ergonomic office chair lying on its side and looking sorry for itself. Rhys disabled the electronic lock, and together they were able to push the cover out of position and climb through.

The room was in better shape than he had expected, which was not saying much. The desk was in several pieces up against one blackened wall; the computer had been reduced to a scattering of chips and plastic. Somewhere in the pile was his prized collection of executive toys. He supposed it was a waste of time to raid his stash of coffee and snacks.

On the opposite side of the room the one surviving framed and autographed poster of Handsome Jack pointed down at them, laughing. He yanked it down from its hook with both hands and flung it aside, narrowly missing Vaughn.

“Hey!”

“Sorry. Just didn’t want that asshole staring at us while we go through the wreckage of our lives.”

Pieces of broken glass trickled out of the bent frame where it lay on the floor. It gave him a savage satisfaction, and if he hadn’t been wearing a good pair of shoes he would have ground the shards down even further under his heel.

“Check this out,” said Vaughn, handing him a strip of black metal.

He took it and turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over the engraved letters. It was his old name plate, words charred beyond recognition except for _Rhys_ and fragments of some bullshit job title dreamt up by management as an alternative to bonuses.

It seemed fitting.

The chair fell apart the moment he tried to set it back upright. It had set him back an obscene amount of money back in the day, with its programmable massage functions and heated cushion, and now it was a pile of worthless crap. He stood in the middle of the room, stunned, holding half of a backrest until he burst into an involuntary fit of laughter.

“You were right. This was an absolutely terrible idea.”

“Maybe one day you’ll listen to me when I tell you things,” Vaughn replied. “And by the way, you probably don’t want to look at the bathroom.”

Rhys took one glance through the door at the disaster zone, littered with shards of porcelain, hair styling products and the various stimulants he had once hoarded for all-nighters spent frantically debugging some intern’s disastrous code. He agreed.

“I can’t take any more of this. Let’s try yours.”

They wandered side by side through the corridor down an old familiar path, but it could not have been more different to their Hyperion days. Instead of power-walking to the cafeteria to get the freshest burritos before their line managers noticed they were gone, they were strolling through a desolate wasteland made all the more alien by its familiarity. Light bulbs dangled from their fittings, the few doors still in place hung off twisted hinges, and the decorative plants had shrivelled to dust.

“See? They were real. You owe me twenty bucks.”

Rhys rolled his eyes.

He was not sure how to feel about seeing Helios in this condition. It didn’t even seem to be the same place that had lifted him up, motivated him, and eventually almost killed him – but then he would see a set of stairs, a handrail, a staff directory under the ashes and suddenly his mind would fill in the scene like it was Monday morning and there were doughnuts in the break room…

“Rhys?”

He slipped out of the vision to find Vaughn looking up at him, the same pain written clearly across his face.

“Just…remembering.”

“I know. Me too.” Vaughn reached over and squeezed his human hand. The touch brought his mind back down to the deserted hallway where they stood, back to a present that smelled like smoke and dust, but it reminded him he was not alone. He attempted a smile.

“Come on.”

The accounting department was in much better shape than anything they had passed through. The array of cubicles near the entrance was missing most of its dividers and the floor was littered with the remains of all manner of electronic devices, but it was still recognisable as somewhere that humans had been in the last hundred years.

“Man, I am really glad there are no more dead bodies in here,” Vaughn said, stretching his limbs.

Rhys stumbled.

“Yeah. Lot of cleaning went on before you showed up. Wasn’t great.”

“Can we just go to your office?” he asked.

The accountant shrugged and led him over to one of the doors around the perimeter wall. The handle snapped off as soon as Vaughn touched it, but it allowed them in without any further argument.

Like the area outside, it was better off than Rhys’ office; the desk had taken a beating but was still in approximately one piece. Vaughn ran over to check the drawers, pulling out what looked like a stack of papers and waving it about with a loud cheer.

“Whoa, what’s that?”

“My calendar!” He thrust it out towards his friend. On the front cover, a soft-focus ginger kitten slept on an oversized fluffy pillow. “Vasquez made me take it down because he was ‘allergic’. Jerk. He wasn’t even in this department. Oh, July had the cutest little calico...”

While Vaughn was absorbed in gushing over the assorted cats, Rhys edged his way towards the exercise bike leaning against the wall in the corner. He had no point of reference but it looked expensive, with its stitched leather saddle and sleek frame. The seat was almost at its lowest position, and he stifled a giggle at the thought of how ridiculous he would look trying to pedal at that height with his lanky legs. Righting the frame, he raised the seat a few notches and bounced up into place, perching proudly on top.

“Check me out,” Rhys called, throwing off his jacket.

Vaughn finally looked up from his calendar. “Hold on a sec,” he said, putting it aside and rummaging through the other drawers. This time he resurfaced with a pair of glasses.

“You…can’t see me?”

“Of course I can, doofus. They let me track your stats. Cadence, heart rate, electrolyte loss. We can figure out your baseline and work from there.” He slipped them on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as the startup sequence flashed over one lens. They were rectangular like his old work Spex, with a slim black frame all around.

“Oh,” said Rhys, and mentally slapped himself for it.

“What?”

“Nothing! They’re nice. Forgot what you looked like with glasses.” He cleared his throat.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “Well, okay then. Let’s see what you’ve got. I bet you can’t go two minutes.”

“Watch me.”

Gripping the handlebars with great determination, Rhys shoved both feet into the clips and began pedalling furiously. The bike spun freely for a few seconds, followed by a few beeps and the first level of resistance kicking in. He stared straight ahead and matched the change.

It was easier than he had expected. There was barely any change in his breathing, and his legs seemed to keep circling of their own accord. “I could do this all day,” he said. He imagined the ground flying by under him as he blew past a crowd of cheering admirers without a hair out of place. If he had known that this was all it took to turn himself into a Mr. Universe contestant, he would have done it years ago.

Before long the overenthusiastic start was catching up with him, heart pounding frantically against his ribcage. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. His legs started to complain loudly, somehow feeling stiff and gelatinous at the same time. Sweat was pooling under his hands and on his forehead faster than he could swipe it off. Just as he felt his chest was about to burst open, he slumped over the handlebars and came to a dead stop.

“One minute, fifty-three seconds. Half a mile. Impressive,” Vaughn said sarcastically, walking over with a towel from the filing cabinet.

“That thing is evil,” Rhys gasped, sliding off the seat and sprawling on the floor.

“Yeah, the first time usually hurts. You’ll be feeling that tomorrow.”

“That’s what she said,” he responded weakly.

“Ha ha. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“That too.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes and returned the seat to its original height. He fiddled with his glasses, resulting in the bike beeping again as it ratcheted up the resistance, and climbed on with all the gravitas of a general mounting his war horse.

“You have to build up your aerobic base first,” he explained as he pedalled. “That doesn’t happen overnight. Of course, if you’re trying to get big, you want weights – progressive overload is what leads to the hypertrophy…”

“How are you even talking right now?” Rhys dragged himself up to sit on the desk.

“Years of practice.”

Vaughn was still rattling off training suggestions, but he had already tuned out, concentrating on getting all his organ functions back to normal. A brief ECHO scan of the bike confirmed that it was on some seriously challenging settings, and that the heart rate monitor was reading steady at just over a hundred beats per minute. He couldn’t believe that it had taken the complete collapse of their former existence to find out that his best friend had been so extraordinary the whole time. Then again, he thought with a touch of guilt, maybe he just hadn’t been paying enough attention.

He was certainly paying attention now.

Vaughn’s firm hold on the handlebars threw his biceps into sharp relief. A glimpse of his calves through his boots hinted at some impressive musculature there too. The effort of riding up an imaginary mountain seemed to barely faze him. Rhys barely even realised he was staring until Vaughn looked directly at him.

“Uh, hello? Mission Control to Rhys?”

“Gah! Sorry – just recovering – really out of it,” he mumbled, fanning himself dramatically and slumping against the desk for added effect. He hoped it was convincing, because he was not sure how to explain what had been going through his head.

Vaughn frowned. “Damn, are you alright?” he asked, kicking the pedals to a stop and hurrying over to kneel by his friend. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Rhys, allowing him to check his pulse. He already knew it was slightly elevated, and that it was probably not fair to lay the whole blame on the half-mile sprint. What it meant was a question he was sternly refusing to contemplate. As far as he was concerned, he was simply paying admiration where it was due. That level of abdominal definition was clearly the result of immense dedication.

“Don’t scare me like that, bro.”

He smiled apologetically. “What’s it like? You know, doing things and not feeling like you’re about to die.”

“Never really thought about it. You’re so skinny, I didn’t realise how out of shape you were.”

Sitting up slowly in an effort to look like he was recovering from the depths of exhaustion, Rhys figured it was worth asking something. “There is no way to bring this up without sounding weird, but can I feel your abs?”

“Huh?”

“You know. For motivation.” He screamed internally.

“Yeah, it does sound weird. But sure,” said Vaughn with an exaggerated shrug. “Yeah. It’s cool. All good. No worries.”

It was too late to take it back, and besides, he was genuinely curious. Rhys leaned over and reached out with his left hand, tentatively resting the tip of one finger, then two on the top of Vaughn’s six-pack where it was exposed. His skin was hot to the touch, with its own thin film of sweat, and shifted slightly with his breathing. Rhys brought his palm down until it made contact, amazed by how solid and unyielding the muscles felt under his hand.

He had never seen anything like it, at least not in person – and he had seen his fair share of things. His hand moved of its own accord, tracing down the centre groove; he found himself holding his breath, completely transfixed.

Vaughn cleared his throat. “Uh, Rhys?”

Rhys jerked back as if he’d been burnt, heart racing again as he realised what he’d been doing. “I – uh – I should go,” he stammered, hauling himself up using the desk.

“Wait –”

“Left the…tap running. Just remembered.” He dusted off his sleeves and stumbled backwards towards the door. “In the desert! Man, I am just the worst.”

“Rhys, it’s fine –”

 _“Seeyouroundbuddy!”_ he called over his shoulder, racing out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him.

It occurred to him as he flew back down the corridor that the real secret to fitness might be running away from his own stupidity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's better than this, just bros being bros
> 
> Also I'm not gonna lie. I have like, the opposite of a beard fetish. Sorry to all the fuzz-lovers out there.


	3. Trojan Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (computing): any malicious computer program which misleads users of its true intent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This was actually the first chapter I wrote. It contains explicit sexual content.
> 
> Which is something I have basically never written.
> 
> I have no idea what I am doing. Sorry Rhys.

Before his arrival, the Children of Helios had built a shrine to their hero. It was modelled after the luxury Hyperion office suites, and despite the questionable construction methods it functioned pretty well as a home with the simple addition of a bed. Today Rhys was more grateful than ever for a place with a locking door and window shades.

He collapsed into his chair, covering his face with his hands and letting out a pitiful sound which was the only thing adequate to express his embarrassment. When the theatrical groaning failed to ease his mind, he fired up his computer, casting about for a mindless way to waste time. First he attempted to engross himself in scrolling through his old network inbox, searching for some of the reply-all departmental drama from the company days that never failed to amuse him.

In fact, most of his messages were from Vaughn – long paragraphs excoriating terrible bosses, pictures of baby animals, the occasional accounting spreadsheet of which he was particularly proud. Rhys flicked the program aside in frustration and loaded up the moonshot simulator that he’d coded one quiet afternoon. Pushing aside the pangs of guilt that came from pretending to bomb towns where he had met perfectly nice people, he managed to focus on the intricacies of targeting and trajectories for a solid hour. The act of raining down fiery death calmed him a little, letting him feel like he was still in charge of his life.

Then the computer reminded him that he was several million points short of Vaughn’s high score.

“Oh, come on!”

He shoved the monitor aside and picked up a pen, doodling aggressively on the surface of the desk. The scribble started to take the shape of a skag, so he concentrated on getting the shape of the armoured plates perfect. Soon a zoo of lovingly detailed if biologically inaccurate Pandoran beasts spread across the table.

Halfway through filling in the rakk hive’s teeth, the computer played the soothing jingle which informed Hyperion employees that overtime was a privilege, not a right, and that insurance would not cover any workplace accidents resulting from sleep deprivation. It was accompanied by the overhead light switching off with a loud clunk. Rhys sighed, leaning forward until his forehead met the desk. He was no closer to forgetting the day’s events; now he was simply exhausted as well as agitated, alone in a dark room feeling confused and sorry for himself.

He was not sure how long he stayed like that before noticing the whisper of movement in the background – his head snapped up and he gripped his pen tighter, tensing in his seat.

“Who’s there?” he called.

There was no answer. He held his breath, straining to hear anything above the hum of the climate system.

The next thing he saw was a dim flicker by the door. Rhys narrowed his eyes, peering into the furthest corner of the room, where an indistinct light appeared to crawl up the shadowy walls.

“Hey, I can see you!”

He raised his right hand, activating the torch. It washed out the view, but he could see that he was alone and the door was still closed. Scanning the office with his cybernetics revealed nothing but the usual warnings about structural integrity; he exhaled and shook his head.

“Oooh, _Rhysie!_ ” called a sing-song voice. "How’d you manage to keep that one from me?”

He let out an involuntary yelp. Jack’s hologram leaned against the desk, half smirking and half sneering, arms folded and one eyebrow raised. The edge of his outline shimmered as it reached maximum strength, casting a powerful blue glow that made Rhys recoil, covering his eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been in your brain for how long now? Did _not_ see that one coming!”

“Sh – shut up,” stammered Rhys, heart pounding in his chest. A nudge with his foot confirmed the lower-right drawer of his desk was still locked, the only thing that stopped him graduating to a full panic. “No, this can’t be happening. I _literally_ pulled you out of my head!”

“We spent a lot of quality time together, kiddo. You don’t get to just shove me in your back pocket when things get a little inconvenient.” He stared straight down through the surface of the desk, directly at where the old ECHO-Eye was hidden. “Your tiny brain missed me, so here I am. And you know what? I’m not even mad.”

Jack thrust his arm out, watching the other man intently. Nothing happened. He flexed his fingers one at a time, then his whole hand. A frustrated growl tore out of his throat.

“It won’t work this time,” said Rhys, trying to keep his voice steady.

An audible burst of static flashed through the hologram as Jack slammed the hand down on the desk.

He advanced on Rhys, who shrank into his chair, but swept on past him until he was out of sight. Rhys was about to scramble to his feet, but froze instead when he felt a ghostly heat and an almost imperceptible pressure on his shoulders. He turned his head rapidly to find a hand either side of his neck – hands that should not have been able to touch him.

“What –”

“Shhh,” Jack admonished, and pressed both thumbs into the skin either side of his spine. “Relax.”    

The effect was like a tranquiliser, smothering him as it pulled him underwater. His pulse slowed and the air passed quietly out of his lungs; he was dimly aware of faint fingers digging into his still-tense muscles. Words floated around his head like bubbles drifting towards the surface, just out of reach.

“You…but you can’t…” He could only breathe a few syllables at a time, all his energy focused on staying present. It was like being trapped in the seconds before sleep: absolute comfort and zero control. Jack’s hands burned hotter than any human’s, and even though the hologram carried next to no force it had the precision of a sniper. Rhys was sinking deeper, his eyelids heavy and his nerves practically purring with satisfaction.

Terror tried to reach out to him, but he was too far from shore.

“Well, looks like I can. Don’t ask me how it all works. I guess it’s just the next level in our friendship.” Jack patted him affectionately on the cheek.

Distant alarms were ringing in his brain, but every part of his body was as heavy as lead. He could only grit his teeth and grunt, trying and failing to pull away; at the same time, part of him wanted to know what would happen next. He had won once before – surely he could afford to wait and see, and let himself drown in the meantime…

“Hey, that reminds me. You and your little buddy! We could have had some real fun together, pumpkin. Not my usual scene, but you know, what with you being obsessed with me and the hand thing and all…” He laughed to himself. “I think I might be _jealous!_ ”

Fear finally rose to the surface, the only thing that called loud and clear above the haze. “Leave him alone,” Rhys gasped, momentarily breaking the surface.

“So protective. Admirable, but stupid. Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself?”

Jack reappeared in front of him in a burst of distortion, one foot planted on the seat between Rhys’ knees. He looked up, and saw that Jack’s left eye was green.

“What…what do you want?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But I can tell you one thing,” said Jack, leaning in close to his face and sliding a hand slowly and deliberately up his thigh. _“You’re going to like it.”_

Rhys awoke with a start, shoving himself away from the desk and scrambling to his feet as soon as his shaky legs could support him. The motion sensor welcomed him back, flicking on the lights with a pleasant chime. Gripping his own shoulders protectively, he looked around wildly for any trace of the intruder but found nothing except the familiar four walls. Then a terrible thought occurred to him; he dropped to the floor, checking the lock on the secret drawer and finding it intact.

“Just a dream,” he told himself in an unnecessarily forceful voice. “Just a dream.” He rolled over and lay on the carpet, exhaling deeply. The hologram did not reappear.

It was hardly the first sexual dream he’d ever had about Handsome Jack – they were practically compulsory for Hyperion employees, and he had been more devoted than most – but it was the first one to unnerve him, all the more so because of how damn _good_ it had felt. His skin was still on fire where Jack’s hands had been; he found himself absently reaching down and retracing the motion up the inside of his thigh, trying to recall the overwhelming bliss he’d felt at the mercy of that touch.

It had been a while since he’d had enough time for the luxury of fantasising, let alone fooling around with anyone; the wait had apparently made him all the more sensitive. Combined with Jack’s newfound ability to reach deep into his nervous system and pull his strings, it was fast sending him somewhere he hadn’t planned on being.

Rhys sat up slowly, dizzy and disoriented, and looked down at the outline of his cock straining against the material of his tight pants.

“Oh, great.”

He sighed and climbed to his feet. This, at least, was a solvable problem.

The office replica included an executive bathroom, complete with an ultra-modern shower system. The floor was not level and the hot water supply was nowhere near Helios standards, but it mattered little to Rhys as he turned on the cold tap at full blast. Stripping off and tossing his clothes haphazardly onto the floor, he shot himself a sulky glare in the mirror before pointing an accusing finger at his erection.

“Why are you like this?”

As soon as he stepped under the icy water, he wished he had taken a more subtle approach. The spray bit into his back like a taser, driving him out from under the stream and into a corner to cower, shivering. To his dismay the shock had already sent his circulation into overdrive, his cock throbbing painfully in response. He bit down hard on his lip, stifling a curse. Part of him wondered if he’d done it on purpose, to give himself an excuse. After all, it had been a long time, and Jack couldn’t hurt him, and the dream was fresh in his mind…

Rhys took a deep breath, rested his mechanical hand on the hot water tap and trailed the other down his stomach.

“Fine, fine,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll do it your way.”

He traced the underside of his cock with his fingertips and then his palm, marvelling at how his work-roughened hand felt against the sensitive skin.  The stimulation was new and wonderful; he’d never been with anyone who had hands like that, had never experienced the particular friction that came with them. Leaning back against the tiles, he wrapped his fingers loosely around the shaft, and then turned up the water temperature until it reminded him of the touch from his dream.

He’d done it before.

The fantasy began where the dream left off. He imagined that Jack had thrown him against the wall and was leaning over him with cool fury in his eyes, surveying his body like a hard-earned possession. Rhys was no career masochist, but he could never picture the man taking anything less than total control.

At the thought, his mind called up the memory of a hand that was and wasn’t his own, locked around his throat – he pushed it away, shuddering, refusing to let it move him. Instead he thought of Jack reaching out and grabbing him roughly, carelessly, but not without a little pleasure of his own...

His mouth fell open and a small sigh escaped. He tightened his grip on his cock, starting to move his hand back and forth in slow strokes. The rational part of his mind warned him that this was dangerous, that he should know better than to think of Jack as any less than a menace. It was overruled by the idea of the man leaning in and whispering in his ear.

_“That’s nice, Rhysie. Real nice.”_

The image spurred him on to move faster. Rhys lost his train of thought, focussed on the rhythm he was building and letting himself get lost in the feeling. His body responded quickly, consumed with a hunger he had forgotten.

Swallowing hard, he started to fuck his hand, instinct taking the lead as he remembered how he liked it, the exact shifts in pressure and the perfect place just under the head that was almost too sensitive to touch. His eyelids fluttered shut. The hot water running down his chest felt like a body pressed up against his, and he subconsciously leaned into it. He knew Jack would never get so close to someone he was using as a power trip, but Rhys craved the contact, arching his back to feel more and sucking on his lower lip as he imagined being kissed. His fantasy faltered. He kept stroking himself, casting about wildly for a new thread, faintly remembering something about warm skin under his hand –

Vaughn.

His heart lurched in his chest and he stopped mid-motion, staring at the ceiling. Something told him that this was wrong, a line he couldn’t cross with his best friend, but already he was thinking about the way a drop of sweat had run down Vaughn’s back while he chased down the miles, muscles working visibly, the look on his face as he noticed Rhys’ hand lingering a little too long...

“Shit, shit, _shit,_ ” he hissed, slamming his right hand against the wall. There was no stopping the thoughts now that they had begun, and his body was demanding more. Jack’s sneering face had completely vanished from his mind; he could barely remember anything that had passed just a few minutes before. All he knew was that he was past the point of no return, and nobody would ever have to find out.

He would finish this now and feel guilty later.

Leaning into the stream, he imagined having Vaughn there, pressed up against him with lips grazing his collarbone. That thought alone sent a jolt right to his core; he gasped, squeezing his cock hard in response. The fantasy had changed character in a second – no longer dirty and intoxicating, but something that shocked him in its raw honesty and intensity. He struggled to remember the last time he had felt anything like it.

Rhys placed his metal fingers over his other hand to increase the pressure. He could see everything so clearly: Vaughn’s ragged breathing against his chest, the question in his eyes, and the determined motion of his hands. He tipped his head back to lean on the tiles, thrusting his hips gracelessly. This was what he had wanted – what he had needed without ever knowing.

Suddenly the water started to run cold. “No,” he whispered, frantically slamming the taps closed. He dropped to his knees, knowing he had to keep the image clear at all costs. Hunched over, panting, he held on to the thought of Vaughn on the floor beside him with their legs tangled together, leaning in close and desperately working him towards an orgasm. He could no longer hold in his incoherent sounds of pleasure, whimpering with every stroke, the picture clearer than ever.

Rhys knew he was about to finish. He rode out the last few seconds until he came so hard that the edges of his vision turned to stars, hot liquid spilling onto his thighs and stomach as he moaned Vaughn’s name – then he collapsed to the floor, paying no heed to the freezing water pooled around him.

It felt like eternity before he was able to drag himself to his feet, rinsing away the sweat and the sex with the cold stream he figured he deserved. His body was exhausted and his mind was numb, unable to put into words what he had just experienced. Somehow he felt like it was branded across his face, and everyone would know that he was an idiot creep who jerked off to his friends in the comfort of a CEO office. Even the plush towels gave him no comfort.

Crawling into bed with a dull ache in his heart and a weight on his soul, Rhys pulled the blankets all the way up over his head, and after an unknown but endless length of time he slipped into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good idea rhys, good night everyone i'm going to say some prayers or somethin'


	4. Object-Oriented Programming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (programming): a model for writing computer programs. Instead of a procedural list of actions, OOP is modeled around objects that interact with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy early valentines day

Friday rolled around again and Rhys was finally tired of hiding in his office. Whatever embarrassment he was still suffering paled in comparison to his need for sunlight and food not cooked by underpaid teenagers with a grease fetish. He carried his tottering stack of pizza boxes to the trash while the sun was just beginning to rise, squashing them down with both hands to make them fit.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, he clung theatrically to the shadows as he made his way through the streets. There was an overlook on the cliffs by Helios that he had returned to many times; sheltered from the wind and almost invisible from the ground, it was the perfect place for a man to wallow in his own guilt, and Rhys had more of it than normal.

Vaughn had tried to call him twice the morning after _the incident_ , but without any carefully crafted blasé response prepared he figured he would just dig himself deeper. He had meant to call back, but every time he tried to think of what he would say, he came up empty, and the days slipped by. They had never gone so long without even a message, and Rhys was sick with worry that he’d driven a permanent hand-shaped wedge between them.

He had another, smaller concern on his mind too. Settling in in the perfectly-sized hollow between two rock spurs, he considered how easily he had been able to conjure up the image of Handsome Jack; not only that, but he had let himself think of it as a good thing. After everything, his former idol still held the cards.

He pulled the old ECHO-Eye out of his pocket, a pathetic flimsy collection of frayed wires and chipped glass that had come closer to killing him than an entire space station falling out of the sky.

As a programmer, he had learned to never throw anything away. Fragments of code could be repurposed in unexpected ways; outdated user manuals had helped him break into ancient systems more than once. There had been a hundred justifications for keeping the eye: as a blueprint, as a source of technology nobody had known was possible, even just for the sole purpose of making sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Now Rhys was starting to doubt his reasons.

His ringer went off loudly, causing him to fumble and almost drop the device. Shoving it back into his breast pocket, he flicked up the cybernetic display while hastily patting down his hair.

_Incoming call: Jack_

At the sight of the words, the world receded into nothing; there was only him and a dull, sinking fear. The Eye seemed to be burning white-hot where it rested over his heart. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, the angry scream of static, the maniacal laughter of a man who wouldn’t stay dead. He couldn’t understand how it was possible.

He had to know. With a shaking hand and a dry mouth, he swiped to accept.

“Figured that would get your attention,” said Vaughn, staring at him from the screen with a sulky expression.

His pulse stuttered in a different way. “Ugh! Give me a freaking heart attack, more like! What the hell?” He was cooling off slightly despite his anger. Just a coincidence, he told himself.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been feeling so great either, Rhys! When were you planning to stop avoiding me?”

He gesticulated wildly, trying to appear casual and achieving the opposite. “I’m not _avoiding_ you, I just didn’t –”

“I have known you for like, ten years. I know when you’re avoiding someone,” Vaughn said humourlessly. “You are not a subtle guy.”

The two of them looked away from the screen for several seconds, and then Rhys took a deep breath and leaned forward. There was no amount of embarrassment that was worth upsetting his best friend. He wanted to shake himself for his selfishness.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m being a jerk. I…you still want to hang out at the Skag tonight? I’ll buy,” he offered.

Vaughn relaxed visibly. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to hang at mine for a change. I found this bottle of scotch on the station the other day after you, uh, left. I figure it’s a miracle survivor. Like us.”

“That sounds great,” said Rhys. He didn’t actually like scotch, though at that point he would have accepted an invitation to drive blindfolded in a Death Race if it meant a chance to clear the air between them. He smiled, his face remembering for the first time that week how to operate in front of other people. “I’ll be over at eight.”

“See you later, bro.”

The line clicked shut and he leaned back against the warm rock, closing his eyes. It did not escape him that both of them had yet to mention _the incident_ , but he would take the olive branch with both hands and deal with that conversation later.

\---

Freshly showered and wearing his favourite pair of socks (black with red chilli peppers), Rhys was starting to feel like his old self again. He struck a pose in the mirror, finger guns blazing, and stepped out into the world. The day was winding down, groups of people milling around on corners as they decided how best to ruin their Saturday mornings, and he smiled and waved at everyone who looked his way. They looked back at him like he was insane, but it hardly bothered him.

Rhys arrived five and a half minutes before he was due. While he was debating how best to look casual about hanging around outside someone’s windows, the front door swung open, Vaughn beaming at him from the entryway. He found himself breaking into a run, legs moving of their own accord; the two of them collided in a bone-breaking hug.

“I missed you,” he murmured, pressing his face into Vaughn’s hair.

“Me too, you big goof.” The shorter man tried to extricate himself from his friend’s long arms with only partial success. “Get inside.”

Even though Vaughn didn’t live in corporate luxury, his house was impressive by local standards. It was the kind of bachelor pad that either of them would have killed for back in the day, complete with a bedroom that had its own door and an open-plan kitchen. Rhys kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the living-room couch, immediately at home.

“So anyway, I found this in Cargill’s filing cabinet,” said Vaughn, coming back from the kitchen with the bottle and two tumblers. “I always thought she was a little loose after three o’clock.”

“I would be too if I was head of accounting.”

“Says the guy who gets excited about cloud-based version control.”

“Hey man, do you know how _hard_ it is to write code when idiots keep ruining it?” Rhys took the glass he was offered, shuffling his feet closer to make room at the right-hand end of the couch. Vaughn slipped easily into the gap, and it was like things were back how they had always been.

The seal opened with a satisfying crack and they took turns pouring a cautious amount into their glasses.

“You know, for the first time, I really feel like a douchebag CEO,” said Rhys, holding up the tumbler with a comical sneer.

Vaughn pretended to look disapprovingly over the rims of his Spex. “Wow. Guess dreams do come true.”

It was a face he had seen a hundred times before during a lifetime of impulsive decisions, but something about it distracted him. He had to think about it for a few seconds before he realised what was different.

“You’re…still wearing those?”

“They’re useful and you said you liked them. Now quit stalling and drink your scotch.”

Feeling unexpectedly chastened, Rhys lifted his glass to his lips. A smoky aroma filled his nose, almost intoxicating in itself. He screwed his eyes shut and tipped the tiny half-shot down his throat. It burned all the way, making him cough and splutter, but at the same time there was something immensely satisfying about the tingle that spread to his fingertips. He decided he could learn to like the stuff if he really had to.

“I think you’re supposed to sip it,” said Vaughn, who was perfectly composed as he did so, one foot resting on the opposite knee.

“Ugh, can you stop being so freaking cool?” Rhys refilled his glass about a third of the way. “You’re making me feel inadequate.”

“Well, guess we’re finally even then.”

He was not sure how to respond, so he took a small taste of his drink, trying to recall the words that executives always used when discussing their expensive liquor collections, stupid things about _mouthfeel_ and _finish_ and how the smell of mud was supposed to be a good thing. He started to consider promoting the Atlas beer team. All the same, there was a sense of peace rapidly stealing through him as he sank deeper into the couch; he had barely tasted spirits since college, and that was when he still had the blood volume that came with two arms.

“So, have you given up on working out?” Vaughn asked. He was smirking a little, but there was no malice in it.

“I…did some push-ups,” Rhys said lamely.

“Oh yeah? How many?”

“ _Hundreds_ , man. Just smashed them out, one after the other.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you collapsed after ten.”

“Something like that.” The real number was closer to five, but Rhys knew that it was purely inexperience and he would be doing them all day in no time – or perhaps that was the liquor talking. It had a lot to say.

“Well, don’t go passing out on me again,” said Vaughn sarcastically. “I might have to revive you with the healing powers of my hot bod.”

Rhys accidentally swallowed a huge mouthful of scotch, and his eyes bulged as he fought to retain his composure. Eventually the alcohol won, and he resorted to taking several heaving breaths to cool the burn in his throat, doubled over and holding the glass at arm’s length. When he regained enough clarity to know he was going to survive, he shot an accusing glare at Vaughn, who was studying him with a raised eyebrow.

“Too close to home?”

“I’ve been freaking out all week about how you probably think I’m some kind of creep and you never want to see me again, and you come out with _that_?” he spluttered.

“Yeah, I’m super mad at you, Rhys. That’s why I told you that it was totally fine. That’s why I tried to call you.” His tone was halfway between amusement and anger. “I mean, shit, it was actually kind of nice!”

They both froze awkwardly, the words hanging in the air between them as Rhys attempted to process what he had heard. His head was crowded with ideas all fighting to be heard first – denials, deflections, questions – but only one thing came out.

“You mean that?” he said quietly.

Vaughn stared down into his empty glass, twisting a few strands of hair around one finger.

“I…yeah. I like it when you notice things.” He poured himself a refill and held out the bottle without looking. “Feels good.”

Rhys reached over silently to take it, letting his metal fingers brush against Vaughn’s. They looked at each other; he managed a lopsided smile, which the other man returned.

“You’ve become so…awesome,” said Rhys, swinging his legs to the other side and shuffling closer. “Don’t get me wrong, you always were the best guy I ever knew – but look at you now! Shooting big-ass lasers at monsters, leading the dawn of a new civilisation, doing flips in zero gravity…”

“Technically it wasn’t zero gravity.”

“Whatever! If I could do half of what you’ve done, I might actually deserve that weird headless statue.” He tipped more scotch into his glass while trying not to sway too much. “You’re the real hero, Vaughn. I’ve noticed that. As much as your great abs and your fantastic hair and your glasses,” Rhys said firmly, pressing his head against Vaughn’s shoulder and looking up with an admiring gaze. The liquor was definitely talking now, but he agreed with every word.

“Rhys…”

Vaughn was looking back at him with questioning eyes. Adrenaline shot through him in the most pleasant way, mingling with the alcohol in his blood in just the right way to make his nerves sing. His throat was dry and his pulse thundered erratically in his skull, but it felt good.

“Did you invite me here to get me drunk so I’d compliment you?” Rhys said coyly.

“Not exactly. But it’s nice. I should do it more often,” murmured Vaughn, relaxing against him.

“Not exactly?” With a small giggle, he started walking the fingers of his left hand up Vaughn’s muscular chest. Even he was surprised; they had always been more comfortable with each other than most guys, but drinking spirits had put him on a whole new level of familiarity. “Uh. Is this okay?” he asked quickly, freezing in place. Even in his state, he could recognise the edge of another _incident_.

“Keep doing that. S’good.”

Emboldened, Rhys continued, tracing his fingertips all the way up to the other man’s neck. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it, only that he didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to ever leave the couch where they sat. There was sharp stubble under his hand, a long-forgotten and fascinating sensation, leading him to run one finger along Vaughn’s jawline while he studied its shape closely. He wanted to slap himself for never noticing how damn good-looking his best friend was.

Their eyes met, faces almost touching. His head was spinning with the possibilities that were suddenly unfolding, things he either hadn’t seen or refused to see – and strangest of all, the suspicion that this was no accident.

“Are we…?” he whispered, his chest tight.

“Only if you want to,” Vaughn answered just as quietly, coming a few millimetres closer until their noses brushed together.

“God, yes.” Taking a deep breath, Rhys closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Vaughn’s, feeling him tremble a little. That tiny fraction of contact between them sent a jolt of electricity through his whole body. He hardly dared to move, suddenly unsure of what to do and afraid to screw it up, knowing he wanted so much more.

He felt a hand snaking through his hair while another slipped around his back. “If you’re gonna kiss me,” said Vaughn hoarsely against his mouth, “you should do it properly.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, pulling back an inch and breaking into a grin. “Show me.”

He found himself being pushed up against the couch cushions, Vaughn straddling his lap with a gleam in his eye and his Spex askew. There was just enough time to think about how much he wanted him before Vaughn’s mouth was shoved up against his own in a hot, messy kiss. He could taste the scotch on his friend’s breath, and there was something thrilling about it, some whole new form of intoxication that blocked out everything else. Finally his instincts kicked in and he was responding in kind, their lips moving together feverishly and without finesse, bodies pressed impossibly close.

Vaughn tilted his head back slightly, sucking on Rhys’ lower lip and drawing a moan from deep in his throat. He thought back to his fantasy and how inadequate it was – he could never have anticipated the wild enthusiasm, the sheer heat between them.

He managed to wrench himself away, panting heavily. “My turn,” he growled.

Grabbing Vaughn’s collar with both hands, Rhys pulled him in sharply, running the tip of his tongue up the side of his neck. He paused to enjoy the shudder it produced before sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” exhaled Vaughn, grinding into Rhys’ lap and shrugging off his vest to better expose more flesh. The sight of his uncovered chest was just as incredible to Rhys as it had been the first time; now he could touch it, really feel the strength just under the surface…

He was aware for the first time that somewhere in the scotch-and-lust haze he had started to get hard, and the constant friction between them was only driving it further beyond his control. He was not the only one to notice; Vaughn had slipped a hand between them and was starting to stroke him slowly through his clothes. It sent the most wonderful sparks up his spine, bringing him crashing full force back into reality.

“W – wait,” he said, fighting with everything he had to stop himself from pushing up against the contact.

Vaughn pulled his hand back like he’d been stung. “What’s wrong?”

“We should stop,” Rhys choked out.

“I – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

“Believe me,” he said in a thick voice, “I want to. I really, really want to. But not like this. Not while we’re wasted.”

They fell still, foreheads pressed together in the warm silence. He took Vaughn’s hand and pulled him gently aside so they were sitting next to each other once again, cooling off slowly while Rhys awkwardly crossed his legs.

“So…this isn’t just a one-off thing?” Vaughn asked, lacing their fingers together. He looked relieved now instead of disappointed.

“I hope not,” said Rhys, affectionately nudging him with his head. “It’s just…I care about you. More than anyone. I don’t want to go and do something stupid without thinking.” He sighed. “We’ll figure this out, bro. I promise.”

“Oh my God. We just made out and you’re gonna ‘bro’ me?” He emphasised the word with finger quotes.

“Hey. You’ll always be my bro. Even if we get married and adopt a bunch of dogs.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” said Vaughn, but he leaned in to give Rhys a chaste kiss on the cheek before resting his head in the crook of his friend's neck. “We’re definitely getting cats.”

Time stretched into infinity around them, lost in a world of their own. Rhys had no idea if minutes or hours were passing, floating despite the heaviness of the scotch as he felt gentle fingers tracing up and down his side. All of his guilt and all of his fear retreated into insignificance; for the first time in ages he simply existed in the moment.

At last Vaughn stood up, stretching and yawning. “Come on, you look like you’re about to fall asleep, and the couch is way too short for you.”

“Guess you’re taking me to bed after all, then,” said Rhys with a wink.

“Ugh. You are so lucky that you’re pretty.”

Vaughn opened the bedroom door, guiding an unsteady Rhys by the waist. They fell onto the bed without so much as moving the covers, arms around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world, and drifted off to sleep in a silence full of unspoken words.


	5. Exploit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (computing): a piece of software, a chunk of data, or a sequence of commands that takes advantage of a bug or vulnerability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the sequence of events figured out now! Time for another part while I tear my hair out trying to figure out BL's timeline.
> 
> This chapter contains descriptions of violence.

Rhys drifted back to consciousness sometime around one in the morning, the inside of his mouth feeling like he had spent the last few days licking sand off the ground outside. There was no pain, at least; he was fairly sure he had a few more hours of the room spinning before he got to that stage.

Vaughn was passed out peacefully beside him, curled up with half his face pressed into his pillow. Only the gentle rise and fall of his chest gave away the fact that he was still alive. Rhys reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair away from his face, tucking it safely behind his ear. They had shared couches and crashed on crowded floors together so many times without a second thought, but tonight it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

His head was buzzing with more than the night’s drinking. Every cell overflowed with adoration that had finally been given form, but he was also keenly aware that everything could fall apart in the light of day. Somewhere underneath it all was the question that kept coming back.

_What took us so long?_

Rhys couldn’t find an answer, and he was not sure he wanted to. He didn’t want to know that they could have had everything long ago, if only he’d had the sense to see it sooner – or worse, that they’d left it too late.

He would solve the easy problem first and get some water. Even though experience told him nothing short of a nuclear blast would wake Vaughn up, he eased himself into sitting on the edge of the bed as slowly and quietly as possible. A wave of dizziness rushed over him, still just on the right side of being pleasant. He shuffled to the kitchen, relying on the light from Elpis that filtered in through the windows, and started peering through the cupboards. Mismatched plates were stacked in neat but precarious piles, surrounded by a flock of coffee mugs. Rhys picked out one with relatively few chips and an off-centre Hyperion logo, filling it under the tap.

“Hey there, cupcake,” a familiar voice purred from far too close behind him.

He spun around, water spilling everywhere.

“He was right there grabbing your dick, and you still managed to say no. I’m kind of impressed! No wonder you gave me so much trouble,” said Jack, watching him thoughtfully. He was glowing less than before, the colour saturation starting to come back into his image. Somehow looking like an ordinary human made him all the more dangerous.

“Get lost,” Rhys spat, raising the mug with a shaking but determined hand. “I’m done listening to you. This is just another stupid dream.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe.” His hand shot out – Rhys flinched instinctively, and Jack caught him by the metal wrist. “But it feels real, doesn’t it?”

Pain shot up his arm like fire, and a strained scream fell out of his mouth before he could stop it.

He had never felt pain so clearly in that arm, nerves that shouldn’t have been there lit up as if by lightning. Everything was burning and he could not think of anything except wanting it to stop, but it did not let up, heat tearing at his flesh like skag fangs. He couldn’t breathe. His fingers contracted involuntarily, crushing the handle of the mug into pieces, the rest of it shattering on the floorboards.

The sensation vanished as quickly as it had begun, leaving him to collapse back over the sink, sweating and gasping as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The grip around his arm was firm, almost as strong as the man’s would have been in life; he was too shocked to shake it off.

“How do you want to feel, Rhysie? You know I can make it happen.” Jack was leaning over him, perfectly calm. “I’m still in there, all wrapped around your spinal column. Just ask.”

“You’re not real,” he repeated over and over, more to himself than to Jack. “This isn’t real.”

“I think you’re missing the point.”

Rhys screamed again, this time without restraint, as he felt a dozen knives forcing their way under his skin. His legs buckled, only Jack’s strength and the hard counter stopping him from collapsing. The sharpest blade dug into his stomach, twisting slowly and lovingly with a white-hot edge, another one slipping its way layer by layer through his back. He grabbed helplessly at his body with his free arm; his entire being was consumed with the pain, his mind unable even to form the words _wake up_.

Jack released his arm, watching him fall to the floor before dropping to his heels next to him.

“Don’t make me do that again. Believe me, it hurts me more than it hurts you,” he said gravely. “Next time it’s your balls.”

Trying to flatten himself against the cupboard door, pieces of broken ceramic littered around him, Rhys clutched his cybernetic arm to his chest, sucking in air like his life depended on it. He was not surprised to find his face wet with tears.

“No need to be embarrassed,” said Jack. “ _‘In the face of pain, there are no heroes.’_ Read it in a book.”

“What do you want?” asked Rhys, barely above a whisper. He was not sure he could take another hit.

“You keep asking that. So I’ve been thinking.” Jack settled in beside a shaking Rhys. “I want my company back, but you destroyed it. Thanks for that, by the way. I want you to put me back in charge of your brain, but I get the feeling you’d rather die – and where would that leave me? So as much as it pains me, I’m setting my sights a little lower. First time for everything, right?”

He clapped him jovially on the shoulder.

“I want you to stay here.”

“Where’s here?” Rhys said numbly. The dizziness was finally passing, though his vision was still blurred.

“ _Here_ , dumdum. Inside your head.” He jabbed the data port with a finger. “With whatever’s left of me. Whatever I am now – a ghost, a memory, who knows – fact is, you’re the only person I can talk to ever again. Fuck my life, right?” The curse rolled casually off his tongue, unnoticed.

“No…”

Jack ignored him. “I’ll make it worth your while. Shoulder massages every night! I know how much you like those. You can keep Atlas, I don’t care. Bring your buddies. Everything you want, as long as you let me in.”

“You’re desperate.” A little bit of strength was coming back into his voice and his body. “I am done with your offers, Jack. I made my own destiny. It’s real, and it doesn’t include you.”

Something very dark passed across Jack’s face. “You’d be a headless corpse in a shallow grave if I hadn’t helped you out.”

“I’m going to wake up now,” Rhys said through gritted teeth, pushing himself up off the floor. “And as soon as I get my hands on it, I’m going to destroy the last record of you in this godforsaken universe.”

Jack was on his feet in an instant, blocking his way. His hand reached out to grab Rhys one more time, but at the last second he stopped, something manic in his eyes.

“I’m getting stronger. We both know it. Why don’t you quit while the going’s good? Next time it might feel a little _too_ real. Or…” He looked over his shoulder at the bedroom door. “Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. Maybe you’ve got a little too much to live for.”

Without thinking, Rhys grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt and stared right into the eyes of his mask. He was scared as hell, but he refused to back down despite the merciless stare that greeted him. “Don’t you even _think_ about touching Vaughn,” he said, practically glowing with anger.

“Too late, pumpkin,” Jack sneered viciously. “I think it’s time to see what I can _really_ do.”

He slammed a fist against Rhys’ chest, knocking the air out of him and delivering one last shot of agony that sent him staggering backwards, clutching at his heart for fear it would explode. Stretching one hand helplessly towards the door as Jack walked away, he called out in anguish –

“VAUGHN!”

The next moment he was in bed again, sunlight stabbing his eyes and the sheets tangled around his legs. Vaughn was nowhere to be seen.

He kicked and fought his way out of the cloth that had him trapped, racing for the door and flinging it open.

“You, uh, okay?” asked Vaughn, looking up from the stove with one eyebrow raised. “I’ve got aspirin.”

Rhys sagged against the door frame, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. His skull was indeed pounding, but it paled in comparison to the sheer joy at seeing the other man safe.

“I – had a bad dream,” he said in response to the concerned look, shielding his eyes from the windows as he shuffled into the kitchen. He immediately glanced towards the cupboards, spotting the stack of plates through the glass. “Just gotta get some water.”

He stared into the depths of the cupboard, scanning every surface for the Hyperion logo, but it was nowhere to be found, an empty space where the mug had been. Shaking his head slightly, he picked up another one in an unassuming pastel-grey colour, filling it three times from the cold tap before stopping for air.

The hangover receded by a few hairs, leaving him alert enough to finally notice Vaughn looking up at him shyly. “Hey,” was all he said.

“Hey,” Rhys answered, scratching the back of his neck. “So.”

“Yep.”

“I should probably…” He leaned down hesitantly, plucking up the courage to plant a small kiss on the side of Vaughn’s mouth. “Yep. Cool.”

“Good.” Vaughn’s cheeks were bright pink. “I’m, uh, making pancakes.” He gestured at the bowl on the counter, which was full to the brim with a whisk sticking out the top.

“I have never loved you more,” Rhys muttered, wrapping his arms around Vaughn’s bare waist and nuzzling his hair. He smelled like clean laundry and aftershave, and the warmth of his skin was the perfect antidote to the dream, a reminder of what they had shared just a few hours ago.

“Can I get a rain check on the love? I’m hungry.” He nudged Rhys with one elbow, causing him to let go with an exaggerated whine.

“Only if you pay me back with interest.”

“That’s not how rain checks work,” Vaughn said patiently, pouring the first drops of the mix into the hot pan. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

He made the process look effortless, turning out one thick, fluffy perfectly-formed pancake after another. Rhys found it oddly hypnotic, and it was only partly due to the gnawing morning-after-drinking rumble in his stomach.

“Didn’t know you cooked,” he said admiringly.

“Well, I like eating. The two kind of go hand in hand when you don’t have a nice clean cafeteria to rely on.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Reach high shelves,” said Vaughn, without even looking up. “Good thing I have you.”

The two of them made short work of the massive stack, standing either side of the island counter armed with forks and butter and some surprisingly decent syrup. Rhys thought he had never tasted anything so good in his life, although he knew he was both biased and a sugar addict. When he was finished, he pulled up a stool and relaxed with his head propped up on one hand, feeling supremely satisfied.

He watched Vaughn fiddling with his fork, spinning it round on one tine with a faraway look in his eyes, and finally realised that something was up.

“Hey, buddy,” he said gently. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…stuff.”

“Come on, I know that face. You feeling okay?”

Vaughn sighed. “Listen, bro. Last night was great, but…”

A sickly chill spread through the pit of Rhys’ stomach, and the blood drained from his face. This was exactly what he had feared. “You – you don’t want to do it again?”

“Jesus, Rhys! Of course I do!”

“You said ‘but’!”

“Yeah, because I need to know what this means to you!” He pointed the fork aggressively at Rhys, then seemed to get a hold of himself, looking embarrassed at his own behaviour. “Sorry. I…I know you’re my best friend, and I’ll never doubt that. I trust you. And I want you to be happy. It’s just…”

Rhys reached over to take his hand, some of the ill feeling fading away. A different kind of nervousness was taking up residence in his chest, but this time it was tinged with excitement.

“Yeah?”

“If it was just some fun for you, fine. I sure as hell don’t regret it. But I can’t operate like that. I’m not like you, Rhys.” Vaughn’s voice cracked on the name and he looked away. “I mean, you could be with _anyone_. And if we were doing this and suddenly we weren’t ‘cause you met someone totally awesome, I’d be...I just want to know if this is serious for you.”

Rhys had been going along without a plan or any idea he’d need one, just like always, but now he wanted desperately to say the right thing – not just to Vaughn but to himself, because something had finally clicked in his brain, and he knew they were teetering on the edge of a moment that would change everything. That was when his eye fell upon a small, raised scar between two of Vaughn’s ribs, and the memory came rocketing back so clearly it was like everything was happening all over again: the aurora splashed across the sky, the smell of blood and gunpowder, and the tiny flakes of snow drifting down onto the nightmarish scene.

“She stabbed you,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“Vallory stabbed you, and I couldn’t stop her. After everything we’d been through, it felt like the end, and all I could think was that we didn’t get enough time together.” The words tumbled out in rapid succession, the panic almost real. “And when I knew you were going to live…I knew I could get through anything after that. I just wondered if there’d ever be enough time. It’s taken me until now to figure out what it meant, but that’s when I realised something had changed.”

He looked pleadingly at Vaughn, whose eyes were shining with tears.

“I watched Helios fall out of the sky,” said Vaughn in a thick voice. “It was like you said. Not enough time.”

Rhys couldn’t wait any longer. He ran to the other side of the counter and pulled the man into a tight embrace, feeling a damp patch growing on his shoulder as he stroked Vaughn’s hair, and wondering how long he would last before crying too – because he was happy, deliriously happy, and everything finally made sense.

“I love you,” he whispered. He had said it a thousand times and always meant it; somehow this time was different. A shuddering sob was the only response, yet he knew exactly what it meant. They had always understood one another.

Vaughn’s hands came to rest either side of his face, and then they were kissing again, salt and sweetness, this time without a shred of doubt or hesitation. It felt like no matter how close they held one another, it wouldn’t be enough to express what he was thinking in that moment. He tried to say it all with the insistent pressure of his lips and the delicate motions of his tongue, hoping it would be enough.

They finally broke apart just enough for him to really look at Vaughn; he expected to feel like he was seeing him for the first time, but he was wrong. He saw the same person who had been by his side for half his life and always would be, who had gone through hell with him and never once let him down, and that was enough to fill him with wonder.

“Last night didn’t just feel good,” said Rhys. “It felt…right."

“I guess this is pretty serious then,” said Vaughn with an unsteady grin. “ _Bro._ ”

“For sure, bro. And I will prove it by doing the washing up.”

“Whoa. You really are full of surprises.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, putting on his most seductive pout. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was finally weaving together after so many years, all that time leading up to one morning in a messy kitchen on a godforsaken planet, and Rhys just let himself be content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this pairing gives me diabetes, but in a nice way i guess


	6. Boot Sector Virus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (software): a virus which infects the computer by altering the boot sector program, replacing the default program with its own corrupted version.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to start by sending my appreciation to everyone who has left kudos and kind comments on this story! I appreciate every single one of you and I'm so happy that you're enjoying it :) I hope I can satisfy your expectations, or at least surprise you along the way!
> 
> Time to answer some questions and raise a few more.

Rhys stayed another hour, but they both knew they had to get back to the rest of their lives at some point – besides which, he really wanted to change his socks. After a long, drawn-out goodbye at the front door, he finally tore himself away and headed out into the desert.

As soon as he was alone, things seemed so much less simple. It was impossible to be someone’s best friend for ten years without a few shameful memories along the way; surely Vaughn would remember what he was like at his worst and run for the hills. Even if he could ignore the breakups and breakdowns, there was still the time he video called Vaughn, aged twenty-three, covered in foam and asking what the difference was between laundry detergent and dish soap.

Then there was the other problem, which he hadn’t wanted to think about at all.

He lifted his shirt furtively to check for any evidence of the dream, but there was nothing, not even the faintest scratch. The logical part of his brain said it made perfect sense; lighting up a few neurons could produce all sorts of sensations, and if sometimes that meant torture instead of electrifying sexcapades then maybe that was the price of having an imagination.

It still did not explain why a vision from the past had come back twice in one week with a very personal message, but he was starting to form a theory.

Artificial intelligence was way outside of his expertise, but he had taken a college course on neural networks and even attended some of the lectures. The main thing he remembered was some third-year smartass hacking into the demonstrator mainframe and feeding it sci-fi until it got paranoid and started to hurl death threats at every human that entered the server room. He wished he’d thought of it first. But three days after they’d cleaned out all trace of her code, the computer came to a complete halt. The only thing it would say was _[Examine error. Sterilise.]_ It never worked again.

Rhys knew what it was like to be hijacked by malicious code. To have a voice in his head he couldn’t ignore.

Something had been left behind.

He pulled up his messaging interface and started writing.

\---

Yvette was already waiting for him when he arrived at the café the next morning, sitting at a table for two with a giant coffee in one hand and a clipboard propped up in front of her. As soon as she spotted him, she terminated the call on her earpiece and jumped up to give him an affectionate squeeze.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me!”

“Aw, you know I wouldn’t,” said Rhys, dragging over a rickety chair. It was an upgrade from the milk crates and burnt tree stumps that usually passed for street furniture in the area. “Been busy?”

“Yeah.” She waved vaguely at the papers on the table. “Turns out a working knowledge of infrastructure makes you real popular in a post-apocalyptic hell. At least the coffee’s good.”

“Well, someone told me Atlas made the best lattes,” he said. “I didn’t want the machines to go to waste.”

“Rhys, our lord and saviour.”

He stuck out his tongue at her, and flagged down a passing server for a double espresso – an order which prompted Yvette to give him a suspicious look.

“You know what happens when you have that much caffeine.”

“I...haven’t been sleeping so well lately,” he replied. It was the truth. Part of it was the fact he’d been up half the night trying to break into Nakayama’s research archives, only to find a mess of uncommented code in a language he barely recognised. Rhys knew that it was fair to say he was better than most, but the sheer number of modules alone was overwhelming. For all he knew, he hadn’t even reached the AI files yet and was being stumped by the professor’s screen saver.

There was also the fact that he was starting to dread what might happen when he fell asleep.

“Is Vaughn coming?” asked Yvette.

“Vaughn?” he said, a little too quickly to be casual.

“You know, our other friend? Short guy, brown hair, way too into math. What, you forgot to invite him?” She raised an eyebrow.

“No – he’s, uh, sick. But he said to say hi.”

Yvette pinched the bridge of her nose. “I swear, if you two have had a fight or something, I am _not_ dealing with it.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Everything’s great!”

To his relief, she seemed prepared to let it go, even though she kept a stern eye on him over the rim of her coffee. He planned to tell her eventually, of course, when things calmed down a little – hopefully before her inconveniently sharp intuition figured it out. Not that she wouldn’t be happy for them, he hoped. Yvette just didn’t take kindly to being left out of the loop.

Another server came by to drop off his espresso, and Rhys wrapped both hands around the tiny cup straight away. The radiating warmth gave him a little boost of energy, enough to ask the real question that was on his mind. When the AI code had failed to reveal its secrets, he had cast the net a little wider.

“Yvette, do you remember when we found out about the holodeck?”

“The Psychodynamo? Yeah, I do. Congratulations, though, you made it a full five minutes before I realised you were going to ask me for a favour,” she said with a devilish grin. “That’s a record.”

“Can’t help it. You’re just too good at that stuff,” he replied defensively.

“No offense taken, as long as you’re paying for this.” She tapped the rim of her mug. “And no excuses. You’re a CEO now, big boy.”

“You know, we haven’t exactly got off the ground yet –”

“Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s got you interested in a dead Hyperion project.”

Rhys shuffled his chair forward awkwardly, trying to buy a little more time as he sorted out the tangled threads that were wrapped around his mind.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been having these…nightmares.” He sipped at his drink, finding it still a few degrees too hot. Yvette nodded for him to continue, and he was grateful that she hadn’t laughed. “I think something’s wrong with my head.”

“You took some pretty bad knocks from what I heard. Physically _and_ emotionally.” Her voice was quiet and sincere. “You’ve gotta look after yourself, Rhys. Maybe you should see a therapist.”

“It’s…not just that,” he said slowly. Steeling himself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tangle of electronics that was once his literal lens into the world. He rested it in a small, neat pile on the table.

“Um, what’s that?” asked Yvette, her brow furrowed.

“It’s my old ECHO-Eye.”

“Oh, _gross!_ ” she squawked, recoiling. Rhys shushed her frantically, paranoid that the tables around them would start to get too curious; he was somewhat of a celebrity in the area.

“Just listen, okay? I think some of the data got left behind in my brain, or something. There are things in there that…aren’t mine.” He closed his eyes and threw back the whole double espresso in one go. His whole body shuddered as if to make the caffeine absorb quicker, and then he looked uneasily at his friend.

Yvette took a long drink of her coffee before settling back down. “Sorry. Jesus, Rhys. That sounds awful.”

“Right now it’s only dreams, but I think it could be getting worse,” he said, staring down into his lap. “I’m…I’m really scared.”

She leaned over the table to pat him on the arm, daring to look a little closer at the wires as she did so. She stopped suddenly, and Rhys felt his heart sink as her face shifted through confused half-recognition into a grim horror.

“Yvette –”

“It’s _him_ , isn’t it?”

Her eyes were wide and she grabbed him by the shoulder, long nails digging in through his sleeve.

“This was supposed to be over,” she whispered angrily.

“I know, okay? I was the one who was supposed to have ended it!”

Heads were starting to turn in their direction. In a split-second decision, Rhys snatched the ECHO-Eye from the table and scattered a handful of coins in its place. With a loud laugh and a sweeping gesture, he stood, pulling a furious Yvette along with him towards the exit. She stumbled as she tried to keep up, barely managing to swipe her clipboard as they left.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Keeping this between us,” he replied through gritted teeth. “So nobody _else_ freaks out.”

When they reached the street, Yvette shook him off and he let her go without a struggle; they stood opposite each other, anger rolling off them in waves, until finally she covered her face with her hands and groaned in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled but steady.

“Me too,” said Rhys. “I know this is bad, but we can fix it. I’ve been doing my research. If I can get into the holodeck – the PD – I can fight it. And I need your help. _Please,_ Yvette.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, but there was no unkindness in it. “We don’t even know what happened to that thing.”

They sat down heavily on the curb, and he put his arm around her. She didn't reciprocate, but she didn't pull away either.

“We can do it,” he urged.

“You know, I almost believe you.” She looked up at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “So nobody else knows?”

“No. At first I didn’t even think anything was wrong –”

“Does Vaughn know?”

He froze, mouth hanging open stupidly, and he felt her bristle under his arm.

“I…don’t want him to worry, you know?”

“ _Bullshit_. Something’s going on here, Rhys. You don’t tell him, and he _just_ so happens not to be here – oh God, did you do something? _Did you hurt him?_ ”

She shoved him away, horrified, and as soon as the initial shock passed Rhys started to laugh uncontrollably. In all the years he’d known her, Yvette had watched the world with the penetrating gaze of a hungry hawk. Nobody could so much as take a paperclip from the stationery cupboard without her knowing about it, and she could keep track of the complicated web of office relationships better than any computer. For the first time, she was completely and utterly wrong, and it was hilarious.

“No! Yvette, we’re...”

A hundred words vied to be the right one. _We’re screwing?_ A lie, at least so far. _Dating?_ A little juvenile. _Gay?_ Inaccurate in his case, and Vaughn had always been too secretive for anyone to be sure.

“We’re kind of a thing now,” he finished lamely, with a guilty smile.

She took a few seconds to process the statement; Rhys could practically see the wheels turning behind her narrowed eyes. What he didn’t expect was for her to stand up and start angrily beating him around the head with her clipboard.

“Hey!” he shouted, raising both arms in an attempt to shield himself from the vicious blows raining down on him. For someone who barely came up to his eye level in heels, she was surprisingly strong. “How are you _more_ mad about that!?”

“You – stupid – asshole!” she grunted, landing one final smack on the back of his skull.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“Let me get this straight,” said Yvette, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve been fooling around with Vaughn while Handsome Jack is still in your head? And he doesn’t know? You could be putting him in danger! And even if you manage not to kill him – how can he trust your feelings?”

Rhys scowled defensively, but he knew very well she had seen right through all his excuses and denials from the last few days, straight to the very heart of his fears. He had no way of knowing how deep the code was buried in his brain, or where it would spread next, or whether he would wake up one day as a prisoner in his own head watching himself do the unthinkable.

“I was there with him, while you were missing,” she continued quietly. “I know what it did to him, thinking he’d lost you. You’re a decent guy, Rhys, but do you really know what you mean to him?”

“I suffered too, you know.” His shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground, suddenly exhausted. Thinking back to the endless weeks he spent alone in the old Atlas facility, everything was a haze of blueprints and anaesthetic and solder. At the time he was convinced he’d tried everything to contact the others; since then it had become increasingly clear that he should have done a thousand times more.

Yvette sighed and crouched in front of him. “I’m not going to abandon you, Rhys. I swear. If you think you can fix this, I’m with you all the way. But you have to do the right thing and tell Vaughn, because if he ever gets hurt again and it is in any way your fault, I will _personally_ kill you.”

“I can believe that,” said Rhys.

She ruffled his hair and flashed him a frightening smile with too many teeth. “Good! And for the record, I _am_ happy for you two. Though I’m not sure whether to be surprised or not.”

“What?”

“I thought you guys were a couple back when I met you. Turned out you were just…very good friends. And then there was the time I found you spooning in my guest room…”

“Wow, I seriously do not remember that,” he said, then shot her a quizzical look. “Was I the big spoon?”

“Nope. It was like you were wearing a little jetpack! Cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” Her face softened into a wistful expression at the memory. “Well, I’ve always known I was your third wheel. Now it’s official.”

“C’mon, Yvette. You’re not our third wheel. You’re our Doctor McCoy!”

“I’m gonna go ahead and assume that’s a good thing, you big nerd. Now listen – I’ll do everything I can to dig up the PD, but the rest is up to you. Just be good to him, Rhys. You have no idea how much he loves you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in that moment, I swear we were all Yvette.
> 
> There may be a short delay until the next chapter, but I promise I'm making it worth your while... ;)


	7. Race Condition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (software): the behavior of a system where the output is dependent on the sequence or timing of other uncontrollable events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here at last!
> 
> This chapter contains explicit sexual content, but let's face it, that's partially why we're here. I'm not blushing, you're blushing.

Rhys finally fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion on Sunday night, waking up early the next morning at his desk with the imprint of his keyboard in one cheek. He rubbed his face gingerly, taking in his surroundings with a level of alertness he hadn’t felt in days. Once the disorientation faded away, he realised with a deep sense of relief that he couldn’t remember a single second of his dreams.

The computer screen was still aglow with the previous night’s work. He was no closer to sorting out Nakayama’s convoluted mess, having so far positively identified a single clothing texture map, but he had managed to dig up Hyperion’s files on the Psychodynamo.

Everyone who was anyone in the company had heard the name, but very few people knew how it worked and nobody would admit to having used it, so wild rumours abounded. Rhys himself had once told a group of work experience kids that it was the official punishment for looking too happy – or not happy enough – while working.

Yvette had clued him in on its true nature after a string of unusual requisitions had passed her desk. The project had been conceived after a rash of dramatic employee breakdowns, as a way of saving on clean-up costs while avoiding the red tape of actually hiring qualified counsellors. Combining her clues with Rhys’ computer know-how, they got as far as figuring out it used some kind of virtual reality interface before the trail went cold.

Having found the early testing logs during the night, he was starting to see why the project had disappeared without a trace.

_Subject continued screaming intermittently for forty-eight minutes after deactivation._

_Subject reported anterior view of his own brainstem, describing it as “fuckin’ nasty”._

_Subject refused an exit interview and attempted to depart through an airlock._

Still, desperation had prompted Rhys to keep digging, and he soon stumbled upon a treasure trove of encrypted files. Evidently the team had continued their research despite being disavowed by the company, bankrolled by a cabal of executives, and that was when things had started to get interesting. He had been reading the reports as fast as he could decrypt them. It didn’t take a psychology degree to figure out that they had hit on something big.

He was about to pick up where he had left off when his concentration was broken by a knock at the door. Out of instinct he switched off the monitor before calling out.

“Who’s there?”

“Just me,” Vaughn’s voice said over the intercom. “You really need to get me a pass or something.”

Rhys buzzed him in before quickly swinging both feet up onto the table and leaning back on his chair, hands behind his head.

“A man’s office is his castle,” he said in his best impression of Vasquez. “Can’t go letting just anyone in.”

“I figure I’m not _just anyone_ ,” Vaughn answered smoothly, leaning against the door frame. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and charcoal slacks, shoes polished to a shine, and despite the business clothes he looked nothing like his old self.

“Um,” said Rhys, self-consciously adjusting the collar of his old college tee and trying not to stare. “Special occasion?”

“Anshin wants to talk tech with us. No harm in looking a little more corporate.” He strode up to the desk, perching on the edge and managing to look authoritative even with his feet dangling several inches above the ground. Rhys found himself automatically sitting up in his chair, humbly lowering his legs to the floor.

“Shouldn’t I be handling this? I mean, this is technically my company.”

“Duh, that’s why I came here first,” Vaughn said, and then dropped the act completely. “Also, I really, really wanted to see you again. So there’s that.”

Rhys reached out and took him by the hand, pulling him clumsily towards his lap. After a brief moment of indignation – “Hey! Don’t crush my clothes!” – Vaughn giggled and wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders, noses bumping together affectionately. Like every other reminder of their fledgling romance, it made Rhys’ heart skip a beat.

“Ooh – computer on, monitor off,” cooed Vaughn. “Been looking at something you shouldn’t?”

“No! I mean, yes, but not like that. Classified data,” Rhys said quickly.

“Huh. Some things don’t change. Well, find anything good? Offshore bank accounts?”

Yvette’s words rang in his ears, reminding him of the small bruise he still had just behind his right temple. He knew she had been right about everything she’d said, but looking into those trusting blue eyes was making it difficult to tell the truth. He also knew the longer he waited, the worse things would get.

“Oh, just the occasional top secret science project.”

Flipping the display back on, he was relieved that it would look like a nondescript jumble of documents to a casual observer. His decryption algorithm was still running in the background, powering through a folder full of schematics.

“So…what am I looking at?” Vaughn moved to rest his head in the crook of his neck, which didn’t make things any easier. He swallowed hard.

“Hyperion had this VR thing they were working on a few years back. It seems kinda cool. I’m trying to see if I can get it running again.”

“Sounds familiar. Isn’t that the thing you and Yvette were obsessed with?”

“You remember that?” Rhys asked, hoping he sounded casual, knowing he was being a coward but even more ashamed at the prospect of admitting his weakness. He tried to distract himself by cuddling up closer to Vaughn, who seemed to run a few degrees warmer than most people, and pressing his lips against his forehead. It calmed him down a little, enough to find his mind wandering – especially when he felt a soothing hand move down to trace designs on his chest.

“I remember she was really glad we weren’t talking about cryptocurrency any more. So, what are you planning? Is Atlas gonna be making next-gen games? I could get into that.”

“It’s…more of a personal project right now. I’ll tell you later,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “But hey, if it works, who knows? Maybe your guy at Anshin will have some ideas.”

Vaughn sprang up, eyes wide. “Crap! What time is it?” He checked his watch and relaxed slightly. “We’ve got an hour. C’mon, you’d better get dressed. If you turn up looking like the world champion of Bunkers and Badasses, they’ll laugh us out of there.”

“Alright, alright,” said Rhys, reluctantly hauling himself up. He reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the desk and running a hand through his messy hair. There was no missing the surprised but appreciative look Vaughn sent his way. Halfway to the wardrobe, an interesting thought occurred to him.

Glancing back over his shoulder, a smirk spread across his face. “An hour?”

“Fifty-six minutes, actually, and it’s going to be _at least_ a fifteen minute drive –”

Vaughn trailed off as Rhys came in close and leaned over him, tracing his fingers down both arms.

“So we’ve got a little time.”

“Rhys,” he said impatiently, but at the same time he was placing his hands low on the taller man’s hips and leaning into his body, a sly smile proving he understood perfectly.

“I might be the CEO,” Rhys murmured in his ear, “but I’m starting to wonder if I’m really in charge. Maybe you should be sitting in that chair.”

A small, undignified _‘oh’_ slipped out of Vaughn’s mouth and he reached up for a kiss; Rhys responded enthusiastically, already walking him the last few steps backwards towards the chair. He stumbled and fell back into the seat, breathless.

“I guess I could get used to it,” he said coolly, but the way his fingers were digging into the cushion betrayed his excitement. Rhys was kneeling slowly in front of him, running his metal fingers down Vaughn’s chest until they reached his belt; he paused and looked up, watching his face carefully for any sign.

“Do you want this?” he asked quietly. “We can wait. As long as you want.”

“ _Rhys._ I haven’t stopped thinking about you since – since you touched me, back on the station. I want this. I want _you_.” Vaughn took a deep breath. “If you’re ready too.”

That was all he needed to hear. He slipped Vaughn’s belt buckle open easily, and the two of them worked together to pull the waistband of his pants halfway down his thighs. There was a sense of urgency building between them, not just because of the time limit, but the knowledge that the waiting was over at last and anything was possible. Vaughn was already half-erect under his boxer briefs even in their haste, rapidly getting harder as Rhys massaged him through the material. His eyes fluttered shut as he gripped the armrests, and he had never looked so beautiful.

Rhys was ready and eager to please, surprised at his own forwardness, reaching up to pull the last layer of clothing out of the way. Normally he liked to draw these sorts of things out as long as possible; he promised himself that the next time they would have all night.

At last Vaughn’s cock was free, and Rhys rested his left hand delicately around its width, pausing despite the rush to admire it properly. He had been thinking about it, of course, but finally seeing it for real – feeling the heat and velvet under his fingertips – was beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Damn,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Vaughn looked down at him, slightly worried.

“It’s…impressive.”

“Oh, well, I – I actually checked one time and it’s average, but you know, ‘cause I’m on the short side and all –”

“Vaughn?” Rhys looked up with one eyebrow raised, unable to resist grinning wickedly.

“Yeah?”

“You should stop talking.”

“Right. Just…don’t bite me, you know, _there._ Other places are –”

Whatever he was about to say vanished in a silent moan as Rhys leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on the very tip of his cock.

“Shh. I’ve got this.”

There was so little time and so much he wanted to do; someone like Vaughn deserved the best, the slow and lazy teasing of a morning with hours to kill. He almost regretted choosing this moment for their first _encounter_ , but there was no way in hell he was going to stop now.

He closed his eyes and took the head into his mouth, caressing the underside with his tongue. He was rewarded with a gasp and a shudder. An appreciative growl rose from his throat, sending vibrations along the length, and Vaughn seized a handful of his hair – the force of it was unexpected, just on the sweet side of painful, and it spurred him on immediately.

Bracing himself against Vaughn’s thighs with both hands, drawing tiny circles with his metal thumb, Rhys pulled back for just half a second before leaning down as far as he could go.

Vaughn’s cock slid easily into his wet mouth, filling his senses and demanding his undivided attention as it reached the back of his throat. There was no way Rhys could take the whole thing from his position, but he made up for it in enthusiasm, dragging his lips over the surface again and again. The hand on the back of his head guided him into a rhythm, one which was punctuated by Vaughn’s ragged breathing and incoherent whispers.

_“Pleasedon’tstop,”_ was the only thing he could understand, and it sent a jolt right to his core.

His own arousal threatened to distract him, so he redoubled his efforts, shifting his left hand to grip the last couple of inches that his tongue couldn’t reach. The skin was already slick with spit, making it easy to move in time with his mouth, and the whispers quickly graduated into loud moans. Rhys was pleased to know that he still had his technique down.

He drew back, running his tongue hard and slow along the base of Vaughn’s cock, and looked up at him with an expression of smug innocence.

“What – what are you doing?” His face was flushed, and the hard edge of desperation in his voice was clear.

“Just checking in,” Rhys said nonchalantly, continuing to move his hand in agonisingly deliberate strokes. “You okay?”

“Please – I can’t – nngh…” Vaughn gritted his teeth, chin tipping to his chest. Rhys could feel his pulse thundering under his fingertips. _“Please.”_

There was no resisting when someone begged like that, beyond words or reason or pride. He dutifully lowered his head again, sucking gently at the tip just to hear the sweet sounds in response before resuming his previous intensity. His own cock was becoming painfully hard, and it took all his willpower not to reach down and stroke himself at the same time.

“Fuck,” Vaughn was saying, over and over, louder each time. “Oh, _fuck_ , I’m gonna – I can’t – _Rhys!_ ”

Rhys tightened his grip on Vaughn’s upper thigh in encouragement, and moments later he tasted the familiar warm salt-bitterness at the back of his tongue as Vaughn thrust deep into his mouth, frantic fingers twisting through his hair. He swallowed it down hungrily, basking in satisfaction by proxy.

Vaughn was shaking with the aftershocks, eyes unfocussed and lips parted in blissful amazement. Leaving a smooth trail of kisses along the length, he let go with both hands as he settled back onto his heels. The cool office air wrapped around his shoulders, making him shiver in a way that was only half due to the cold.

After what felt like the best possible eternity, Rhys managed to catch his gaze and they both broke into nervous, exhilarated, disbelieving laughter.

“C’mere,” mumbled Vaughn, tugging at Rhys’ shoulder as he fumbled to get his clothes back on.

Clambering up the chair with the help of the armrests, Rhys had to kneel awkwardly either side of Vaughn’s lap to get close to him – but any strain was forgotten as their lips met in a deep, drawn-out kiss, sharing the taste that lingered in his mouth.

“That was…incredible.”

“Mmm, you think? I don’t know, I reckon I could’ve done better,” he said sweetly. “Maybe I should try again.”

“Ugh.” Vaughn pressed a hand to his forehead, but he was clearly on the verge of laughing again. “Shut up and take the compliment, bro.”

“We’d better not tell anyone. People will think I slept my way to the top,” he teased.

“You _are_ the top.”

“Oh, really?” said Rhys, nipping playfully at Vaughn’s earlobe. “We’ll see about that.”

“Do you ever get tired of being terrible?”

He was trying to think of a clever response when he felt a firm hand grab his erection through his sweatpants. Suddenly he was all out of words.

“Uh.”

“Sorry to interrupt. Couldn’t help but notice. Want me to take care of that?”

“Do…do we have time?” Rhys’ mouth was dry, and his voice came out half an octave higher than usual. Somehow he had not planned that far ahead, and all his confidence had apparently been used up.

“We’ll drive fast. Now get your ass on the desk.”

He obeyed without thinking, a little dazed by the unexpected authority in Vaughn’s voice. Assuming leadership of a new civilisation was one thing. Talking like _that_ at a time like _this_ was another.

And he _really_ liked it.

Shoving various pencils and notepads aside, he shuffled back into a semi-stable sitting position. It was only at the last second, about to slip out of his clothes, that Rhys remembered he had decided to forgo underwear in the name of comfort. The idea was somehow embarrassing, even though the logical part of his mind knew he was only moments away from being naked either way.

“This a regular thing for you?” asked Vaughn, raising an eyebrow as he pulled Rhys’ cock free from the single layer between them.

“If you want it to be,” said Rhys, less smoothly than he intended. He kicked off his sweatpants, aware of the cold starting to set in everywhere except where the heat of Vaughn’s palm surrounded his skin. It had him arching his back to get closer to the warmth, and he noted with a rush of excitement just how rough that hand felt.

“I never thought I’d say this, but God, your tattoos are sexy,” muttered Vaughn, raking his gaze over Rhys’ chest as if he’d never seen them before. Rhys could practically feel the intensity of that look lighting him up – and right on cue, Vaughn’s hand slid down the length of his cock.

He could feel him hesitate slightly, like he was afraid to get it wrong.

“Play your cards right, I’ll get one with your name,” breathed Rhys.

“Please do not do that,” Vaughn said seriously, but he took one look at Rhys’ lascivious grin and cracked a smile of his own. The moment of doubt had passed, and his hand started to move again.

Rhys tipped his head back and closed his eyes. It was better than his fantasy, just like everything else had been – the careful grip that had him twisting and moaning _“Harder,”_ until the pressure was almost too much, the free hand wrapped tightly around his hip and pushing him down onto the desk, the crystal clear memory of Vaughn's cock buried in his mouth. He wouldn't last long.

The heat was building at the base of his spine, every nerve radiating pleasure despite the hard surface of the desk digging into his back; he looked up with hazy vision, watching Vaughn’s look of perfect concentration, feeling a surge of love for his best friend that left him breathless.

He knew he was close, the blood rushing in his ears and his hips arching involuntarily. “Your clothes,” he choked out.

“I know,” said Vaughn. “But _you’re_ not wearing any.”

There it was, that voice again, sending one last spark straight to his groin – and Rhys was coming with a strangled cry, the hot liquid shooting up his stomach and chest as he gripped the edge of the table, his metal fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks in the wood. He collapsed back down, staring at the ceiling and panting heavily, just aware enough to feel a tinge of disappointment as Vaughn let go of his spent cock.

He allowed Vaughn to pull him up by the cybernetic hand, craning his neck carefully to kiss him on the forehead without spreading the mess further.

“I’ll…take a shower,” said Rhys, running his human hand down his slick chest and blushing.

“Was it good?”

“Oh, it was way better than good. And you know it, bro.”

“You deserved it,” Vaughn replied, taking his wrist and studying his hand in the daylight from the window. Rhys’ breath hitched as the other man stared him dead in the eye, leaning in and lovingly sucking the tip of his index finger clean.

“Oh, for – go wait in the car, or we’ll never get out of here,” he said, pulling his arm back and clambering down on the other side of the desk. He could hear quiet chuckling behind him as he slunk off to the bathroom.

They walked into the Anshin boardroom three minutes late, dressed in their corporate best and wearing aloof executive sneers, and nobody suspected a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another short delay until the next chapter due to work things, but rest assured, it's going to get written. Kind of a two-part finale kind of deal? Hell, maybe even an epilogue, because I have some horrendously fluffy ideas.


	8. Deadlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (computing): a state in which each member of a group is waiting for some other member to take action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated to reflect new content.
> 
> A small apology to begin with - I said there would be two more chapters, but partway through writing this one I realised I would need three to do the story justice. So the two-part finale is still coming!
> 
> Work is crazy right now but I'm having too much fun writing this fic to stop - heh :)

The meeting was a humbling experience for Rhys, who quickly realised that charm and ambition were not sufficient to make up for a grade-school level understanding of anti-incendiary shields. He soon reverted to nodding thoughtfully while the others did the talking, grateful that Vaughn had picked up local knowledge in their time apart, and frequently had to remind himself not to think about the erotic possibilities of the furniture.

As much has he had revelled in the experience, Rhys was still a little shocked at his impulsive seduction. He could not entirely believe that their _encounter_ had really happened, that they had stumbled across that line together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The images and sensations were clear in his mind – so clear as to be incredibly distracting – but at the same time they seemed impossible.

The feeling was only intensified by the unsettling time warp of being in a boardroom again. Vaughn and the Anshin tech guy were sketching madly on a whiteboard, throwing equations and figures around in a rapid-fire dance rather than a corporate dominance display. He suspected he was watching a great nerd friendship form in real time. There was a time it would have made him jealous, but now he was pretty confident of his place on the priority list.

And there he went, thinking about sucking Vaughn’s cock again. He dearly hoped that nobody would ask him to go up and answer a question in front of the class.

A quiet but insistent double-beep in his ear informed him he had a private message – a protocol that he hadn’t heard since the company days, when it ran hot with secret deals and inside scoops. His heart skipped a beat. Anything that came in on that line was to be considered top priority by default, and he could only think of one person who would use it now. Leaning forward and placing both elbows on the table, pretending he was still absorbed in the discussion, Rhys discreetly activated his ECHO overlay.

_Tracking down a scientist. Ludmila Sokolova, lives on Pandora. Hold up your end of the deal. – Y_

His throat was suddenly tight, and it had nothing to do with the prospect of facing his demons. He had already lied by omission once that morning, and now he was in deeper than ever with Vaughn – way beyond _I’ve been meaning to tell you_ and solidly into _I’ve been hiding something_ territory. Rhys laced his fingers together anxiously, squeezing his left hand until it hurt, and prayed that the meeting would end soon. He stared through the wall, no longer paying attention to the others, while trying to form sentences in his head. He really did want to tell the truth; he just had no idea where to start.

When at last everyone stood up, exchanging handshakes and genial promises, he had to restrain himself from bolting out the door and dragging Vaughn with him. He nodded at all the right times and tried to look approving without being over-eager; it wasn’t until they got back to the car, listening to his friend talk a mile a minute, that he finally found his voice.

“Oh man, Rob is great! You know he went to our college? He said if we come again tomorrow he’ll let us test out their shields at the range.  Do you wanna come? It’ll be awesome,” he said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Also please say something. You’re making me nervous.”

“Can you drive?” asked Rhys. “We… _I_ need to talk about something.” He offered up a feeble smile of reassurance.

“Um. Sure, bro,” Vaughn answered slowly, brows knitted in concern. They climbed in, shutting the heavy doors, and he tossed the keys onto the dashboard. “Actually, yeah – we probably should talk. About this morning.”

Rhys nodded. He figured he could start from there and work his way up to the terrible secret eating him alive. “You still okay with everything?”

“You don’t have to keep asking.” He rolled his eyes, but reached over to play absent-mindedly with Rhys’ hand. “I’m an adult, and _not_ a virgin, despite what the rumour on Helios might have been.”

“Oh, I could tell,” murmured Rhys, watching Vaughn’s fingers like he was hypnotised. “I meant more on the…feelings side of things, because let me tell you, this is pretty crazy for me.”

“Yeah. Same. We’ve been friends for, like, _ever_ , and this morning I saw you naked and covered in –” he cut himself off, blushing and staring out through the windscreen. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was the greatest thing ever. It’s just hard to believe. You and me. Finally.”

That last word had him wondering about something Yvette had said, something that he was too afraid to ask directly in case the answer made him feel even worse. “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” Rhys said in a low voice, leaning in close, half-lidded eyes promising mischief.

“Not in the parking lot!” Vaughn shrieked, scrambling for the keys. The car peeled out of the driveway, tyres screeching the whole way, and they hit the open road slightly too fast.

Rhys let himself laugh, winding the window down to rest his arm and enjoy the breeze ruffling his hair. There had been a time when all he wanted was to ride in style; the desire had never completely gone away.

“I’m not saying that,” Vaughn called out over the engine noise. “But if I _had_ been waiting…I’d say you were worth it.”

A stab of guilt went right through him, making him fall quiet; his cybernetic hand curled reflexively into a fist.

“Uh, hold on to that thought, cause I am about to say something that could make me sound really bad.” Rhys cleared his throat. “It’s about the thing on my computer this morning.”

Vaughn glanced over at the passenger seat, not saying anything but clearly picking up on the shift in mood.

“The VR I mentioned? It’s a…psychiatry thing. I’m planning to use it. On myself.” He stared into his lap. “Because I’m a mess and I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Vaughn said awkwardly, waving one hand and gripping the steering wheel with the other. “You’ve been through a lot. Anything I should know about? You know, if it’s not too personal. I mean, it probably is, or I’d know already, right? Oh jeez, I’m sorry. I’m really bad at this stuff. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. You deserve to know.”

Rhys took a deep breath, thinking back to the dreams that had turned his world upside-down just as he was figuring things out, and he found himself lost for words.

“Nightmares.” His mouth was dry. “About everything. About...”

Jack’s sadistic laughter echoed through his brain, silencing every faltering attempt to explain himself. He could admit to any weakness but that – a monster that refused to let him go, and for all he knew was still there behind the scenes in his waking hours, leading him to do things he would never have done...

_No,_ he told himself forcefully. _This is real. Even if it’s the only thing that is._

The car pulled in outside his office with a muted crunching of gravel. He hadn’t even realised they were close.

“I’m scared you’ll get hurt because of me,” Rhys said at last. It was nowhere near good enough, but it was the best he could do. “And I can’t let that happen. I’m sorry, I should have said something before all of this, but I was stupid and selfish and I wanted you so goddamn much and I thought –”

He felt the reassuring weight of a hand on his shoulder, and the lump in his throat became too heavy to talk through.

“I’m here for you,” said Vaughn. “Whatever you need.”

“I know,” he whispered. _And that’s what scares me the most,_ he added internally.

Rhys opened the door and slid wearily out of his seat, not even bothering to shield his eyes from the fierce Pandoran sun.

“Do you want me to stay?” Vaughn asked from behind him.

“I…I think I need to be alone right now,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“I’ll call you.” There was an edge of desperation in his best friend’s voice.

“That’d be good,” said Rhys, looking over his shoulder and forcing a smile. He couldn’t let his problems come between them any more than they were already going to. “Let me know how your thing goes tomorrow, okay? And Vaughn…”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He walked stiffly up to the front door, not letting himself look back at the car until the last second. He lifted one hand to wave goodbye; their eyes met, Vaughn’s face full of love and worry, and in that moment Rhys utterly despised himself.

He had intended to go back to his computer, but the thought of intruding on good memories by sitting in his chair turned his stomach. Throwing himself down on the bed, he forced himself to read Yvette’s message one more time before bringing up the search bar and typing in the name.

Either Sokolova liked to bury her tracks or someone had done it for her. She appeared on a few thirty-year-old neuroscience papers and a high-fanfare university press release he couldn’t understand, and after that she practically disappeared. All his skill with a computer couldn’t help when he didn’t know where to look; only someone with Yvette’s connections would have a hope of finding her. It was out of his hands. Rhys made a mental note to thank her profusely if she let him live through this.

There was still something he could do. He used his arm to project the decrypted Psychodynamo schematics onto the wall, and was unnerved by the simplicity of its outward appearance. If not for the jungle of wires and monitors, he could have been looking at a shrink’s office in any big city full of money and ennui.

Then again, perhaps that was the point.

The last few files contained the technical specs for the human interface, and Rhys wondered if it had ever been tested on someone with as many augmentations as him. All the same, he was starting to feel a little more optimistic about the entire project; he just hoped Sokolova would surface before the next dream destroyed everything.

\---

Rhys kept working in short bursts; he combed through reports and took down notes, and slept for a few hours at a time, always setting an alarm just in case. It was wreaking havoc on his senses and his thought processes, but he was unwilling to risk any more in case Jack was feeling vindictive.

When Vaughn’s call came through on Tuesday evening it took him several seconds to recognise the sound – and several more to realise he was meant to answer it.

“Hey,” he rasped, not even bothering to fix his hair.

“Damn, you look like shit, bro. Is this a bad time?”

“I’m just glad it’s you and not…anyone else,” Rhys said darkly. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and offering a half-smile. “So, how was work, honey?”

Vaughn didn’t laugh. “As much as I would love to spend the next half hour explaining how a Transfusion grenade works, I am hanging up and coming over.”

“No!” he blurted out. “I mean…not yet.”

“Rhys, I have no idea what's going on with you, but we both know you are _not okay_ right now. You need space, fine. But I can’t just stand by and watch you fall apart like this.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Rhys said desperately. “Just give me a little more time.” He was trying to figure out a plan – he could try and sleep through the night, maybe link his alarm to a heart rate monitor – because he wanted so badly for Vaughn to be there, wrapping his arms around him and telling him everything would be alright.

He watched his friend’s face soften, and it eased his mind just enough to let him smile for real.

“I’ll be there first thing. With chicken soup,” said Vaughn. “If I can get chicken. Which isn’t likely, now that I think about it. Do they even have chickens on Pandora?”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Just hang on ‘til then, bro.” He hesitated. “Also, I can’t remember if I said it already, but just in case…I love you.”

Rhys knew from the way those three words bloomed in his chest that it was the first time.

It should have been a perfect moment, but the good feelings were being crushed under the weight of his cowardice and dishonesty, and between them he could hardly breathe. “I love you too,” he whispered back, trying not to let his heart break. He disconnected the call and collapsed back onto the bed, and only gravity kept the tears from leaving his eyes.

That night, Jack simply stood back and watched him drift in and out of consciousness.

At least, that was how it seemed to Rhys. He could barely tell if he was awake at any given moment.  He kept seeing the man at the very edge of his vision, cloaked in shadows with his tell-tale glow gone, but every time he tried to look directly at him there was only an empty room. Pulling the covers around himself and praying that he would live through the night, he watched and waited for the man to speak – but there was nothing, and he vanished once again.

A tortured mechanical screech from outside finally catapulted Rhys awake, the half-risen sun confirming he had indeed made it through to Wednesday. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders despite the humid morning, he peered out through the window shutters to see a car parked way too close to his door with somebody laying on the horn.

It wasn’t the sleek town car from the day before. Instead it was a rusted bucket of bolts that looked like the engineers had used leftover too-small tank parts to repair its battered chassis, and sounded like the ghosts of robots suffering in hell. His first panicky thought was bandits, and he looked around for anything vaguely heavy to defend himself with – but then the passenger door opened, and Yvette stepped out, stretching like she’d been cooped up for hours.

He opened the front door just a few inches and called out to her in a voice that was much higher than normal. She sauntered over, calm enough to convince him to push it the rest of the way.

“Well, hon, it’s your lucky day.”

Yvette waved towards the car, where he could see the outline of a thin face studying him intently through the tinted window.

“What’s going on?”

“Turns out Dr. Sokolova was _real_ keen to meet you.”

“How did you – it’s only been a few days!”

“I made some promises. Figured it was urgent,” she said with a shrug.

“Yvette, you’re a goddamn miracle worker.”

“You can thank me later. Though after she’s done with your head, you might not want to.”

Rhys refused to let the warning temper his gratitude, pulling her in for a tight hug. She accepted with obvious reluctance, adding quietly in his ear, “You told him?”

“Ah – sorta,” he said, letting go and taking a quick step back. “The general outline.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits and her lip curled slowly. “Don’t fuck around with me, Rhys. You know what’s at stake here. This is not just about you. _Does he know about Jack?_ ”

“I tried to say something, but –”

She leaned closer with one arm raised, her face threatening violence, when they both turned towards the sound of a second car pulling up beside them, a familiar and lovely machine. His heart plummeted.

“Well, well, well,” she muttered, as Vaughn leaned out of the window and looked between the two of them in obvious confusion.

“Hey, Yvette. Long time no see,” he said uncertainly. “You look…murderous.”

“Good timing! You are _just_ the man I wanted to see,” she answered, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Rhys. “I was hoping you could help us with something.”

Vaughn edged closer, hands half-raised in defence. “Uh, Rhys, did I miss something?”

“Don’t worry, she’s only mad at me, not you,” he said.

“Damn right,” said Yvette. “Go get your fancy wiring, Rhys. We’re going on a little road trip, all four of us, and you can fill everyone in on the way.”

“Wait, four?” he heard Vaughn ask as he slipped back inside. He went to his desk in a daze, feeling as though he’d just been shot and was waiting for the pain to sink in. The old ECHO-Eye was there, like it had always been, but this time it seemed to stare back in accusation.

The others were all watching him when he re-emerged with the cables dangling from one hand, dragging his feet like a death row prisoner walking to the chair. Yvette was grimly triumphant, Vaughn looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, and a beady-eyed Sokolova studied him in the rear-view mirror with something that was more than cool scientific interest as he climbed into the back seat.

Folding his legs into the too-small footwell, Rhys thought he heard someone whisper in his ear.

_“See ya soon, kiddo.”_


	9. Rootkit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (software): a collection of computer software designed to enable access to a computer or areas of its software that is not otherwise allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got ridiculously long, so I'm going to post it in two parts. So...it's going to be a three-part two-part finale. Why am I like this.
> 
> I'm still tidying up the second half, but it'll be posted within 24 hours!

Sokolova’s car tore down the highway, faster than something with its aerodynamic properties had any right to be. Inside, the four of them sat in a silence so tense that Rhys was willing to risk being the first to speak.

“Yvette, can you roll your seat forward a little?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Probably,” she said, not even looking up from her datapad.

Several seconds passed, and he cleared his throat.

“I’d really appreciate it if you did,” he said.

“I’m sure you would.”

Rhys tried to glare at her via the wing mirror. “Are you gonna be like this for the whole trip? Because two can play at that game.” He lifted one leg slightly and jammed a foot into the back of her seat.

“Hey!” she snapped, whipping around to swipe at his knees with her tablet.

“Yeah, not so comfortable, is it?” he said loudly, defending himself with his free leg while continuing to kick her in the back.

“Oh my _God_ , can you guys knock it off? This isn’t even our car!” whined Vaughn as he tried to get between them, barely able to reach either one from the confines of his seatbelt. “I am  _so_ sorry, Doctor. They’re acting super weird today.”

The scientist nodded. “I like you,” she said.

Rhys slumped back into his seat, not even bothering to hide his pout, while Yvette stared fixedly at her screen and scrolled aimlessly through a wall of text. He could feel Sokolova watching him again; the way her facial expression never seemed to change was deeply unnerving. With her grey hair twisted into a millimetre-precision updo and the deep lines around her eyes, she reminded him of the battleaxe math teacher who’d given him a week’s detention in the tenth grade.

“You,” she barked, making him jump. “Explain.”

“It’s not my fault. I have really long legs and –”

“She means your brain, stupid,” Yvette said without looking up.

“You know what?” he snapped. “If you can just lay off me for like, five minutes, I’ll tell you guys everything.”

“Fine. Five minutes,” she said smugly. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Rhys took a deep breath and looked around the car at his silent audience, trying to keep a lid on his rising nausea. “Just let me preface this by saying I’ve had a _lot_ of head injuries, and we shouldn’t be too quick to discount that as the cause of all my problems,” he said quickly.

There was no response, just the sound of Yvette’s stylus tapping idly against the dashboard. Vaughn was looking at him sideways, not quite suspicious but definitely heading fast in that direction.

“So at one point – and let me stress that it was a _complete_ accident – I may have downloaded some software. Into my brain. Cybernetics,” he added by way of explanation, tapping the data port.

“Yes. The artificial intelligence,” said Sokolova.

“Oh. You already know that part, huh?” He had hoped he could spin the story out longer, give himself more chances to think of a version that sounded better than the truth.

Yvette butted in. “I mentioned a few things. Had to make you sound interesting.”

“I met this Jack once,” Sokolova mused, sounding almost wistful. It was the closest thing to a human emotion she had expressed so far. “A pity I did not get to study him while he was alive.”

“Can you imagine? _So_ many layers of crazy,” said Vaughn with a nervous laugh.

Rhys shifted in his seat, trying to hold himself together. He could not imagine any part of this going well, but he had never been able to rip band-aids off in one go. The sympathy card was going to be his only option.

“ _Anyway,_ ” he continued, a little too forcefully, and the others snapped to attention. “It was a profoundly unpleasant experience. You know when people are like, ‘Oh, I’d rather gouge my eyes out than talk to him again’? _I literally did that_.” The visual was probably unnecessary, but it made Yvette squirm, which gave him a little vindictive pleasure even as he tried to block the memory. “Still got the thing, too.” He pulled the old device from his pocket, brandishing it savagely. She was just as disgusted the second time, and even Vaughn seemed slightly disturbed.

“You _kept_ that?” he asked, grimacing.

“I needed it. You know, when I was rebuilding my existence. Alone. With no help.”

Vaughn did not take the bait. “So what, it’s a souvenir now or something?”

Rhys had no answer to that, but the scientist had either seen worse or was enjoying the story; she cleared her throat impatiently.

“Anyway, it worked,” said Rhys. His mouth was dry, his insides twisting into knots. “Uh…mostly.”

“Wait, what?”

He closed his eyes, but not quickly enough to avoid seeing the shock and anger on Vaughn’s face.

“What is ‘mostly’ supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“I – uh…” stammered Rhys. “You know, weird dreams, that kind of thing.”

“Dreams,” Vaughn said flatly.

“I know, it’s dumb, okay?”

“So. Nightmares about Handsome Jack. Good to know.” The acid skepticism in his voice was painful to hear. “That doesn’t explain why we’re trekking across Pandora in a stranger’s car to re-enact Tron.”

Rhys balled up both fists, nails digging into his left palm. “Not just any nightmares. He talks to me like he’s still alive. When he found out he couldn’t control me anymore, he – he _tortured_ me. And then he threatened to hurt you too." He forced himself to look up at his friend, who was watching him with a dawning horror. "I can't sleep without worrying what's next."

“So he’s still living in your head. How long has this been going on?”

“Since…since the day we went back to Helios.”

As soon as the words slipped out, he wanted to take them back.

“But that was when…”

_Oh, shit._

“No! It’s not like that!” he protested, but it was too late. If he’d had the protection of Vaughn’s pity before, he had just lost it. He braced himself for the impact.

“What the _fuck_ , Rhys,” spat Vaughn, but what hurt more than the pure venom was the way his face completely crumpled.

“I swear, I’m still me,” he said desperately. “Everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done, I meant it.”

“Oh, we’re just doing this in front of everyone, are we? Wow, okay. Yeah, this is a great time to talk about how you didn’t tell me all this before you…” Vaughn trailed off, the colour rising in his cheeks as he looked furtively around the car.

Rhys sighed. “Yvette already knows.”

“Don’t need to hear the details, guys,” she said loudly from the front of the car.

“Well then,” said Vaughn. He sounded utterly defeated, staring at his hands in his lap.

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you - I just couldn't figure out how. I never meant for it to happen like this, bro,” Rhys pleaded, reaching to him, but he just turned away and stared out the window, jaw set in the awful way that meant he was holding back more than tears.

The minutes passed in empty, gnawing silence until Sokolova reached over to turn on the radio. The car filled with loud, static-drenched pop music, and the four of them rode on without another word.

\---

The car had not even come to a full stop when Rhys launched himself out of the seat; he immediately regretted it as the circulation returned to his legs, causing him to stumble onto all fours onto the sad excuse for a lawn. The other three walked on ahead, towards the cracked glass doors of a dilapidated hospital, and he staggered after them.

“Not creepy at all,” said Vaughn, arms crossed defensively.

“You sure she’s not just going to steal my kidneys?” Rhys whispered to Yvette. She shrugged.

Sokolova held out her pass to nothing in particular and the doors slid open. A cool blast of air welcomed them inside, the only sign of life in the deserted lobby. There was no time to look around; the scientist immediately turned down a nearby corridor and strode away, leaving the others to follow or be lost. She was fast for her age, all sinews and coiled springs. Rhys found himself having to jog every few steps just to keep up.

“What is this place?” he asked, half in wonder and half in dread. Unlike the rundown exterior, the halls looked as though they had never been finished in the first place, all rough ceilings and exposed wiring and single coats of paint.

“Apparently a pretty good place to hide things from Hyperion _and_ from bandits,” Yvette said, and her face seemed to show the same mix of emotions that he was feeling. He was relieved to have someone actually acknowledge him for the first time in what had to be hours; he just wished Vaughn would do the same, instead of running up front alongside Sokolova. Knowing he deserved it didn’t stop it from hurting on every conceivable level.

Rhys tried to scan their surroundings as a distraction, but he couldn’t get so much as a ping response from the ECHOnet. He frowned; even by his most pessimistic estimates, they should have been well inside satellite signal limits. It was not reassuring.

They weaved their way through the maze, all twists and turns and staircases that seemed to lead in circles, until at last they came to a dim, glass-fronted room with a row of swivel chairs. Through the window, Rhys could see the long couch with its rug and cushions – and the flock of monitors that stood around it like surgeons with bowed heads, about to remove a particularly stubborn tumour. Everything in the two rooms was pristine; he doubted he would find even a speck of dust settled on the furniture.

He swallowed. Everything had looked simpler in desaturated hologram form.

“Do people come here a lot?” he asked nervously.

“I cannot breach patient confidentiality,” said Sokolova. She cast an impassive glance over Vaughn and Yvette. “Your friends will have to leave while we discuss your case.”

“What? No. No, I want them here. Can’t I sign something? A waiver?”

She raised an eyebrow. “The discussion may be very personal.”

“Doc, after what you heard in the car, I feel like things can only go up from here.”

Vaughn almost looked at him, and he offered up an uncertain smile just in case. It reminded him why he had willingly walked into a vacuum-sealed office in an abandoned building. Yvette was right: it wasn’t just about him.

“Then tell me why you are here today.”

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers, and the voice that came out of him was deep and certain. “I’m here to kill Handsome Jack.”

The other three stared at him with far less awe than he’d expected from such a bold and dramatic statement. “Um, again.” He coughed. “Properly.”

“Maybe that asshole will get the hint this time,” Vaughn growled.

He held up his fist a little too excitedly. “Yeah, bro –”

“Don’t talk to me. I’m still _unbelievably_ pissed at you.”

Rhys shrunk back towards the doorway, hands up, but he thought inwardly that it was at least a step in the right direction.

“And how do you intend to kill him?” Sokolova asked, as if it was just the next question on a checklist.

He tilted his head in confusion. “I, uh, figured you did that part,” he said awkwardly.

“We provide the arena. _You_ must provide the tools.”

“Well, crap, I didn’t exactly bring anything. I mean, the robot arm packs a hell of a punch, but…”

She shook her head impatiently. “The Psychodynamo is the theatre of the mind!” Her eyes flashed, her voice rising above its calm cadence for the first time. “Use your imagination, boy. Can you shoot?”

Thinking fast, Rhys thumbed back through the memories of his terrifying introduction to Pandora. “I’m pretty handy with a stun baton,” he offered with an apologetic shrug.

“Is that all?” Her disdain was tempered with something like pity, and it automatically made him defensive.

“Well, I did take down several bandits with it. And a space station.”

“I was there. He’s not kidding,” said Yvette.

Sokolova seemed willing to accept that answer, at least for the time being. She sat down in one of the chairs, studying him with the intensity of an X-ray while tapping at her temple. “Your situation is unusual,” she said at last. “Catharsis is one matter; an exorcism is another.”

“But it’ll work, right?” said Rhys, knowing how pathetic it sounded but also painfully aware that he was running out of options.

“It will be interesting,” she said.

Something about the words sent him flying back through time, to another place and another doctor – and in a sudden burst of clarity, he remembered asking the same question and getting the same answer from a dollar-eyed surgeon with a marker in one hand and a scalpel in the other. Those four words were the last thing he remembered before waking up to code and metal.

He had sworn never to be anyone’s science experiment again, no matter what they promised. Now he found himself ready to go back on his word.

Despite all the ice in her blood, Sokolova had never mentioned money, and if she wanted answers she would need him alive and sane; besides, Yvette seemed to trust her. But more than anything else, when he watched Vaughn standing to one side, staring mournfully through the window with a hand pressed to the glass, Rhys knew he had to do whatever it took. Even if Vaughn never forgave him, never even spoke to him again, at least he would be safe.

“Let’s do this.”

It was easy to sound determined, less so to stay calm when the scientist marched him into the other room and ordered the others to stay behind. From inside, the glass wall took on the appearance of a mirror, cutting him off entirely and leaving him to stare at his own terrified reflection. He shuddered.

“This is safe, right? Like, it won’t make everything worse,” he babbled, shifting nervously from side to side. “Fry my cybernetics or something.”

“Give me your old ECHO-Eye,” she demanded.

He scrambled to fish it out of his pocket once again, but found himself holding on when she tried to take it.

“You, uh, probably shouldn’t plug that in to anything.”

She responded with a sly almost-grin at the corners of her mouth which was not reassuring. Rhys preferred it when her face didn’t try to move.

“Our network is completely isolated,” she said proudly. “He would not get very far…and he would regret trying.”

“So that’s why I couldn’t scan anything," he muttered. It made sense - keeping something like this under wraps and out of hackers' reach had to be a priority.

Sokolova motioned him to lie down on the couch, collecting a handful of multi-coloured wires. He forced himself to stare at the ceiling, trying to find reassurance in the intricate plaster patterns.

“I will monitor your EEG for signatures that match the AI code,” she explained. “I can get a clear signal from your data port. If you manage to kill him, I will see the difference.”

“Can you do that? The code is crazy. Believe me, I checked.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I was the best programmer in the Psychodynamo project, young man. They told me it made up for my lack of bedside manner.”

The displays hummed to life around him, almost blinding him; he went to cover his eyes, but she smacked his hands back down.

“You need to be ready,” she said. “Once you are inside, everything will depend on you.”

Rhys took a deep breath. This was happening.

“What do I do?”

“Anything you need to. Use your knowledge and your imagination. And above all…do not let your fear win.”

He pictured the stun baton, remembered its weight and balance in his hand, the slight vibration when it was fully charged.

He pictured himself stabbing it squarely into Jack’s chest and holding it there until the bastard stopped twitching.

He wondered when he had become the kind of person to even consider doing that, much less enjoying it, but he supposed after tearing his own body apart in a burning wreckage that anything was possible.

“You _are_ ready,” Sokolova said admiringly, tracing one finger along the EEG.

“I want this.” His voice was clear and confident.

“Good luck, Rhys.” She pressed the electrodes gently against his temples, made sure the cable was firmly attached to his port. “Ten seconds until activation. It may feel strange.”

He turned his head just a few degrees to look at the mirror, imagining he could see Vaughn and Yvette on the other side. He wondered what they were thinking, what they would see while he was under – if they even believed he had a chance.

“Five. Four.”

In his mind, he reached out to Vaughn.

“Three.”

_I’m sorry,_ he thought.

“Two.”

_I love you._

“One.”

_Forgive me –_

“Authorisation granted,” said a different voice, robotic but definitely female, speaking in a soothing yet beguiling tone. “Going up.”

Rhys recognised the sound of the Helios automated announcer immediately, and watched spellbound as the elevator materialised around him pixel by pixel, truer to life than he could ever have described it in words – except that there was only one button, already pressed, with no designation.

It didn't need one. He knew exactly where he was headed.


	10. Brute Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (computing): an exhaustive search of all the possible solutions for a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the second half of the first part of the ending! Man, math is hard.
> 
> This chapter contains descriptions of violence. The level of violence is pretty canon-typical, but there are some definite Bad Vibes. I wasn't kidding with those Jack tags.

The doors opened onto the hallway he had visited so many times as a star-struck intern, and as it unfolded in front of him it was as good as real. This time he stared straight ahead down the row of lights, feeling the deadly weight of the stun baton at his side, and the urgency to get to the office at the end was all too different. A fire was building in his chest; his feet were already carrying him towards his destination in long strides, and suddenly he was on the threshold and staring at the back of a very familiar chair.

This was where everything had fallen apart, where every last contingency plan had failed, and Jack had shown himself for what he really was. It was only natural that things should end here.

A voice floated over from the window, seeming to come from everywhere at once. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” replied Rhys. He tapped the handle of his weapon expectantly against his thigh as he climbed the first set of stairs.

The former CEO of Hyperion stood up slowly and deliberately, stretching to his full height as if he was just waking up from an uneasy sleep, before finally turning to look down at him. He was just an ordinary man now, a beaten-down shell of the monster who had terrorised worlds, and for the first time ever Rhys looked at him without a shred of admiration or desire or even pity.

“One last chance,” said Jack, arms open wide. “Stop fighting it, cupcake. We could’ve been real happy. Just think what we could’ve done by now, if only you’d trusted me.”

The laughter exploded out of him before he could stop it. “You are _so_ pathetic, you know that?” he gasped. “There is no ‘we’! Face it, Jack. I don’t need you.”

“You ended up on that dump of a planet,” he growled, advancing down the stairs like a jungle cat stalking its prey. “Surrounded by goddamn bandits. Sleeping with your stupid little friend. _You’re nothing without me!_ Is this what you wanted? Huh? IS IT?”

“I’m getting used to it.” With a flick of the wrist, Rhys powered up the stun baton, holding it out in front of him in an almost teasing manner.

“You don’t wanna do this, kiddo.” The CEO bared his teeth, running his tongue hungrily along the sharp edges.

“Oh, I really, really do,” Rhys answered, dark and low. “Time’s up, asshole.”

Jack lunged forward with a roar of wild frustration, and he almost faltered; then, steeling himself and gripping the handle tightly, he ran to meet him with a two-handed backhand swing.

The glowing end of the baton slammed into Jack’s chest, and he watched with a flood of brutal pleasure as the surprise on the mask gave way to horror. The man stopped in his tracks, all momentum gone, collapsing to the floor in a panting heap. Rhys could barely resist the temptation to take one more step and land a kick in his ribs, hanging back out of arms’ reach instead as he waited to see the damage.

“Well,” said Jack through gritted teeth, forcing himself back up onto all fours, still twitching with the aftershocks of the voltage. “I always wondered – nghh! – how that felt.”

Rhys had never seen anyone recover so quickly from a stun strike, but he refused to back down, brandishing the weapon and trying to visualise it spiking to double the power. “Your lucky day,” he muttered, feeling it hum to life again under his fingers, revelling in the flicker of fear in Jack’s eyes.

“Spent so much time missing the good stuff I kinda forgot about pain.” He was still fighting to get to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “Y’know, I tried to be nice to you, Rhysie. Now look at what we’re doing to each other. Guess we’re even?”

“Not even close.”

This time Rhys didn’t wait; he charged forward, stabbing the end of the baton directly into Jack’s heart with both hands and a bloodthirsty grin.

This time the force of the shock was enough to throw him backwards so hard that he hit the desk with a muffled thud, followed by a quiet groan. This time he sank to the floor and stayed there, sucking in deep, irregular breaths as he watched Rhys ascend the final set of stairs between them. 

“I think you can take a couple more hits.”

“What makes you think this will work?” Jack wheezed, every cell radiating spite as they locked eyes. “I’m a part of you.”

“No. You’re not,” said Rhys. “You’re just a parasite who doesn’t know when to give up. You said it yourself – people die. It’s time you accepted that it applies to you too.”

He felt the stun baton powering up to its full charge one last time. He was not sure how to feel; distant suggestions of relief and rage drifted through his mind, but all he could be sure of was the lightning under his fingers and the knowledge that he was capable of killing in cold blood – and _enjoying_ it.

“This is it, Jack. Make your last words count,” he ordered, right arm tense with anticipation.

“Oh, I will,” Jack said darkly, his face hardening into its trademark sneer. With an immense effort, he propped himself up on one elbow; then he pressed one shaking hand to his chest and looked Rhys dead in the eye.

_“Catch me if you can!”_

Every light went out all at once and the office was plunged into darkness, psychotic laughter echoing from all sides. Even the giant moon in the window seemed to distort before blinking out of view. Rhys swung his weapon blindly, hitting nothing but air; shoving the baton into his left hand, he activated his flashlight only to find Jack had vanished.

His heart was pounding with fear now instead of lethal determination, and he wheeled around trying to find anything in the pitch-black room.

“Hey! What’s going on? Am I disconnected?” he called out. “Doc!”

Rhys shut his eyes, trying to visualise the room as it had been just seconds before, and when he opened them again the details started to fill back in like slowly-loading textures. He rushed around to the other side of the desk, but Jack was not there; the air was still, with no sign of movement, and the damn ECHO-Eye would not even boot.

Fighting back the dread that rose in the pit of his stomach, trying to call out to Sokolova in his mind and tell her to switch it off, Rhys was about to bolt for the door when something hard and heavy crashed into his spine.

_“Right here!”_

All the air left his lungs and he stumbled forwards as he lost his balance, grabbing at the chair, desperate not to fall. He managed to twist around, instinctively taking a swipe with his weapon – but Jack caught his wrist effortlessly in mid-air, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

“Oh, Rhysie. You never learn.”

The next thing he knew, his arm was being slammed against the edge of the desk, and his fingers loosened with the force of it. He watched the baton slip uselessly out of his hand – and then Jack seized his chin in an iron grip, forcing him to look straight ahead into those hateful blue and green eyes.

“You’re just not good enough to beat me.”

Rhys opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out he felt the base of his skull smash against the table, and he went limp like a ragdoll. Dazed and floating, he wondered briefly if the pain was here or in the world above; then somehow he was on the ground, and there was an immovable weight across his hips, a pair of hands wrapped expertly around his throat.

“God, yes,” hissed Jack, eyes half-lidded with ecstasy as he dug his fingers into the soft skin. “Finally.”

The effect was immediate. Pure instinct sparked in Rhys’ right arm, and he reached up to grab at Jack’s wrist.

“Let me go! D – Doc...”

“No. You belong to me,” Jack whispered as he leaned in close, watching intently, calm and still against his struggling body.

He pulled with everything he had, kicking wildly as he tried to will himself into more power, or at least an escape route. There had to be some way to turn everything back around. “Not real,” he gasped, the static rising in all his senses.

“You know what? Even better.” One thumb grazed lovingly against his Adam’s apple; he tried to twist away, sickened, but there was no escaping Jack’s grip. “We can do this every night for the rest of your miserable life.”

There were black pixels creeping in at the edge of his vision, and he could not afford to waste any more air on words as the image started to blur out of phase. Rhys took a desperate swing at the other man’s jaw, but his strength was fading, and he just couldn’t reach far enough, and everything was going dark...

And then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. There was no time to question why – he gripped his own neck protectively despite the bruises, dragging sweet oxygen into his lungs like a drug, delirious with relief. Involuntary tears swam in his eyes, streaming down his face, and when he finally blinked them away he saw that Jack was still there, watching him in cold amusement.

“I have wanted to do that for _so long_ ,” he groaned, rolling both shoulders back. “You look so pretty when you’re dying, kiddo. Almost made me forget something.”

Jack reached for his holster. Even coming back from the edge of oblivion, Rhys knew he was in deep shit.

He pushed at the floor, trying to scramble away, but Jack was still sitting astride him and caught him easily by the hair.

“Now here’s a lesson even you can learn,” he said, and flicked open a long silver switchblade.

“What...what are you doing?” The words came out slurred from his aching throat, but the terror in them was perfectly clear.

“Teaching you a little empathy for your poor long-suffering pal Handsome Jack.”

Rhys’ eyes locked onto the knife just before the edge of it reached his face, the tip tracing delicately and playfully up his right cheek, and then they widened in horror.

“No!” He reached up with both hands, but before he could catch Jack’s arm he felt his head being lifted off the floor and slammed back down with enough force to leave him seeing stars.

“Shut the _fuck_ up.”

The impact did nothing to dull the agony as Jack began to drag the blade in a hard diagonal line across his face.

Rhys was in too much shock to scream, a quiet half-whimper falling from his mouth as his whole body tensed. Hot blood rose to the surface in the wake of the searing pain, more than real. He could not hold onto his mind long enough to form a thought, not even _stop_ or _help_ or _why_ ; the edge of the knife was the only thing in the universe, travelling up his other cheek and just skimming his eyelashes as it rose to meet the end of the first cut in an upside-down V.

“Almost done,” Jack said cheerfully, wiping the blood onto his forearm. “Now hold still, ‘cause this is the hard part.”

Nothing else existed, and all the fight in him was gone. He felt as though he was looking down from elsewhere, not even strong enough to think about what it would mean to die inside the machine, listening to the siren call of surrender coming from within.

Jack lined up the point of the blade with his left eye.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” he mused. “And sometimes it still hurts _just_ as bad.”

He felt like there was something he should be saying.

“I think this could really mend our relationship, cupcake.”

Someone he should be reaching for.

“After all, didn’t you want to be just like me?”

Something that would have to be left unfinished.

The knife was descending in slow motion, and Rhys remembered the taste of scotch on his lips. A soft light glowed in his chest, almost enough to make him smile.

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

_You’re safe now._

The call was stronger now. He relaxed, staring at the distant ceiling as he held on tightly to the only good thoughts he had left, and waited for everything to end.

That was when a shadow fell over them both, and as Jack whipped around, indignant, he was slugged straight across the head by a heavy metal bar. The force of it was enough to send him skidding across the floor, howling in rage.

Rhys watched uncomprehendingly as the intruder leapt over him in pursuit before bringing the tyre iron down for another blow.

“Leave. Rhys. ALONE!”

His heart fluttered weakly as he recognised Vaughn’s voice.

Turning towards the chaos, he was thankful he could see only dim outlines through the blood running into his eyes. Jack was silent now, moving less and less with each hit, the defiantly raised knife arm the only sure sign of life – and then Vaughn lifted his weapon one last time.

“You...” snarled Jack. “Of all the people, it’s going to be you.”

“Should’ve stayed dead when it was Vault Hunters,” Vaughn said coolly. 

He heard the final, terrible sound of metal against bone, and then an infinite number of seconds later there were arms pulling him close and a distraught voice calling his name, but it could wait. It could all wait.

A new kind of tiredness was washing over Rhys, something that felt almost like peace. The pain was starting to recede at last. He gazed up at his friend, distantly aware of the love flooding through every part of his being, and then he leaned back, closing his eyes.

He slipped into the comfort of the waiting deep, and everything was finally over.


	11. Assembly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noun (programming): a low-level programming language for a computer, which closely approximates binary machine code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE. 
> 
> Happy Easter, everybody.

He drifted through memories and possibilities, all overlapping without logic or reason and just out of reach.

When Rhys finally came to, he was lying on something soft in a dimly lit room. The light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, not bright enough to reach the ceiling, but pooling around him to reveal a perfect black-and-white checkerboard of tiles extending in all directions; strange, but safe and quiet at least for now. The pain in his face had dulled to a sting, and he skimmed one finger gingerly over the where the wound would have been; it came away with no blood. He wondered how long he had been out.

His hands wandered idly over the thick-knit blanket where he lay, something familiar about its weight and pattern, and he realised he was back on the Psychodynamo couch – but this time with no wires, no screens, and no operator in sight.

“Doc?” he called out uncertainly. A terrible thought occurred to him – what if something in his new cybernetics was incompatible with Hyperion tech, and they couldn’t bring him out of a real-life loading screen?  

Rhys tried to sit up and was hit by a wave of dizziness.

“Whoa, chill,” said a strangely familiar voice, one he couldn’t place even though he knew he had heard it a million times. It wasn’t Jack, or even Vaughn. “You’re fine.”

A ring of blue light appeared, hovering at the edge of the darkness, and he instinctively cowered at the colour before remembering what he had already seen inside the machine. The outline of a human emerged from the shadows, both hands raised in a placating gesture, and Rhys realised he was looking at an ECHO-Eye.

_His_ old ECHO-Eye, as worn by a very convincing copy of himself in a blue suit and a Hyperion vest, holding a tattered mask by his side.

He propped himself up cautiously, still a little light-headed but also unnerved to see his face the way it looked to others, instead of in a familiar reflection.

“Who? How…?”

“Sorry to pull you under like that,” said the other Rhys.

“But you’re…”

“Yeah, the old you. Rhys Prime. Whatever.” He came over to sit on the very edge of the couch, leaving a respectful amount of room even as they openly stared at each other.

“Do I have to fight you too?” Rhys asked, exhausted and resigned. He had read enough science fiction to know it was a distinct possibility.

“Sure hope not. You’d kick my ass.” It was a far more candid response than he’d expected from the person he used to be, and the copy he was already thinking of as Prime continued. “Listen. We haven’t got much time before you go back up top, and we both know we’re bad at apologies, so uh, just let me get this out.”

Rhys rubbed his eyes, nodding vaguely. He was not sure where this was going, but he was not really in any state of mind to argue, and he felt like someone should probably be apologising to him for the general trend of his life anyway.

“When Helios fell, I was ready to lie down and die in that wreckage. Would’ve been the easiest thing in the world. But _you_ hauled us out. _You_ stuck a big old hunk of metal onto our body and made it freaking _work_. And _you_ managed to stay alive long enough to make it back to – to our friends." The copy paused in his rambling, looking distractedly off to one side. "I don’t know where you came from, but you saved our asses.”

“Heh. I did, didn’t I?” Rhys felt himself grin self-consciously, a little embarrassed.

“And it scared the shit out of me! I didn’t know how to be a hero,” Prime said irritably. “But fine, we’re a good person now. Then you went back to the station – and oh, boy.”

“Wait, I totally get it now! I went to Helios, and it brought back too many memories and –”

“Actually, I was talking about when you decided to manhandle our best friend.”

That shut him up instantly as he remembered the sick, crushing guilt of the occasion and how many years of friendship had hung in the balance.

“I was scared. Scared that we were gonna live the rest of our big-shot life without the best thing in it.”

He looked down at Rhys with a face like a guilty dog, an expression he had thrown at others so many times that it was downright weird to see it from the other side.

“Yeah, it was a little, uh...” Rhys scratched the back of his neck out of habit, blushing. “It worked out, though, right?”

Prime sighed, staring down at his hands before suddenly clenching them into fists. “In a way, that just made it worse. I knew Vaughn deserved better than a lying, scheming corporate dick like me. Hell, maybe that’s why Jack saw his chance – one last way to fuck up our life.” He held up the ruined mask, looking into the empty eyes.

Hazy memories floated through Rhys’ head at the sight of it, virtual reality seeming as true as everything else he ever remembered. “Vaughn…he finished what I couldn’t.”

“You got off to a pretty good start, though.” Prime finally smiled a little, his face softening as he studied Rhys’ golden eye. “After all this, I’m starting to think _you_ might just be good enough for him.”

The pattern on the tiles was starting to fade, the harsh split between black and white mellowing into the soothing, inoffensive carpet of a psychiatrist’s study. Prime stood up, adjusting his tie. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to go,” he said, firing a round from his finger guns at Rhys and winking.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’ll be around,” Prime said over his shoulder with a smirk as he started to fade against the wallpaper. “Helping. You’ll need my killer instincts if we’re gonna do this Atlas thing right.”

“But I don’t know what to do,” he pleaded. "Tell me."

“You go up there and do whatever it takes to make it up to Vaughn. That’s what matters now.”

\---

And then, as if he was finally breaching the surface of the ocean after nearly drowning in the airless depths, his eyes flew open and he gasped for the cool, clean oxygen of the world above. Everything inside the simulation had seemed as real as the room around him, and yet there was something unmistakeable about coming back to his body, breathing real air and feeling the real ache in his muscles.

The faces of the other three came into focus above him as his eyes adjusted to actual light - his friends either side of him rapidly going from worry to relief, Sokolova calmly triumphant behind him.

“Guys…” he croaked, reaching out towards them with both arms. Vaughn and Yvette took a hand each without hesitating. “Is my face okay?”

“That’s the Rhys I remember,” said Yvette, her trademark sarcasm almost buried under genuine affection, her eyes glimmering with barely-restrained tears. “Uh, you look fine, hon.”

“There was a knife,” he went on, the words slurring together. “There’s a scar. Can feel it...”

“The mind has an unfortunate capacity for pain,” Sokolova explained patiently over his feverish ramblings.

Rhys remembered the mirror on the wall, straining his neck to catch sight of his reflection, and at last he saw his own fearful expression looking back at him. His heart sank as he saw a vicious, jagged line crossing the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t move with him – and he realised that he was looking at a crack in the glass that branched off from a sizeable hole.

“Oh my God. Did I…”

“Nah,” said Yvette, gesturing at Vaughn with her thumb. “He panicked and threw a chair through it.”

“I didn’t _panic,_ ” Vaughn mumbled.

The scientist glared at both of them. “I told you to trust me,” she said stiffly as she disconnected the cables.

Rhys was already gazing down at the glistening shards scattered across the carpet, but now he shifted to look properly at Vaughn.

“You saved me.” It came out as a whisper, but it was perfectly clear in the library-like quiet.

“Uh, what?”

Vaughn finally seemed to realise that he was holding very tightly onto Rhys’ hand; he went to drop it, but Rhys caught him by the fingertips and held him there with a plaintive look.

“You came into the machine…”

“Impossible,” said Sokolova. "Connecting two people at once could destroy them both."

“He was there,” Rhys insisted, louder now. “He was the one who killed Jack.”

His friends stood in shocked silence, while the scientist swept over to another one of her monitors and began scrolling back through endless arcane graphs.

“Me?” Vaughn asked uncertainly. “But…”

“Would’ve been screwed without you, bro.” He offered up a weak smile. “Told ya you were the real hero.”

“Tell me what happened,” Sokolova demanded, practically incandescent with excitement. Yvette weaved past and grabbed her by the elbow in a move that was far from casual.

“I’m sure Rhys can fill us in later, Doctor," she said sweetly. "Why don’t you give me a tour of this place? You have a great setup here and I would _love_ to know how you did it.”

The scientist began to protest, but found herself being steered hastily out of the room in the other woman’s firm grip. Even though he was full of gratitude, Rhys laughed inwardly as he imagined Yvette pretending to be interested in network security and user interfaces, just like their old days in the lunch room. He really did have amazing friends.

However, his relief at escaping the interrogation did little to ease the suffocating silence in its wake. He finally let go of Vaughn’s hand, daring to have a little hope when he didn’t take the opportunity to move away, and slowly worked his way up to a sitting position.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Rhys said quietly. “But I want you to know that I’m really, really sorry for putting you through this.”

Vaughn hesitated, staring down at the shining flecks of glass strewn across the carpet, before finally letting out a deep sigh and sidling over to sit next to him on the couch, hands twisting awkwardly in his lap. The few inches between them felt like miles, but Rhys held onto the moment like a lifeline.

“You know,” said Vaughn, “as soon as that door closed behind you, Yvette went all quiet. Like, scary quiet. And I was trying to think of when I’d ever seen her like that, and it took me a while to remember, but then it hit me.”

Rhys wasn't sure of the significance, but he didn’t dare to interrupt; having Vaughn talk to him again, even if he wasn’t quite ready to look at him, was more than he had dared to hope for.

“It was one night, while you were… gone, and we were finally starting to admit that you might not be coming back.” His hands stilled and he took a moment to recover the thread, the still-raw memory of that time written plainly in the way his lip quivered. “We’d been having a few rakk ales, and she said she needed to tell me something important. She made me promise to hear her out...and she told me what happened on Helios.”

It was a memory he’d buried long ago, and he felt it snaking through his guts as it tried to break through the surface. Even all this time later, that betrayal still carried its edge every time he dared to recall it. Rhys gritted his teeth, trying not to think badly of Yvette and only partially succeeding.

“And then, um, there was a lot of really gross, snotty crying, but the main point I’m making here is that she told me how after all that, you still saved her life without a moment’s hesitation. You got her off the station when you could have been hauling your own ass out of the fire.”

“She’s our _friend_ , bro. I couldn’t leave her!” said Rhys, horrified. He’d always hated himself for even considering it, like he’d have done any different in her place with the whole of Hyperion bearing down on him.

“You got screwed by _both_ of us, and you just turned around and kept on – ugh – _caring_ about us like nothing happened!”

“You said it yourself, you were just trying to get Vasquez off our backs!” he said defensively. “And I didn’t really get screwed by either of you in the end, so like, it doesn’t matter, right?”

“It matters a whole fucking lot, Rhys!” Vaughn finally turned to look him in the face, blue eyes blazing with an intensity that knocked the air out of him. “Because you’re just so damn _good!_ ”

He forgot how to breathe, staring back at his friend and feeling the words sink under his skin.

“No. I’m not good,” mumbled Rhys, dropping his gaze to stare at his own shoes. “But you make me want to be.”

Vaughn’s fire was gone in an instant, anger melting away to be replaced by something softer, more sympathetic. He leaned over and rested a tentative hand on Rhys’ knee. “Bro…?”

The contact changed everything. He didn’t dare to touch him back just yet, even though every fibre of his body wanted to pull his friend close and never let go, but he knew he could make things right. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Jack. I thought I could handle things, didn’t want you to think I was crazy…should’ve trusted you.”

“It’s…okay. Yvette said she already gave you hell. I won’t double up on it.”

“I dunno, I think you’re allowed.”

The sad-looking shape of the upended swivel chair caught his eye, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a moment of amusement.

“Did you really break the window?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Vaughn’s face reddened slightly. “Your vital signs were going really crazy, and that lady wouldn’t unlock the door. So, um, I _might_ have panicked, come to think of it.”

Rhys gave a small chuckle. “You? Surely not.”

“I just didn’t know what was going on, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you and me not being there, and knowing the last thing I did was yell at you.” He looked away for a moment, shaking his head slightly. “And then you suddenly went all…slow and quiet. So that was a brand new thing to worry about.”

“It was pretty weird in there. Doc’s probably gonna write, like, fifty papers about my subconscious.”

Vaughn shuffled a little closer until their sides were touching, and he glanced both ways before asking quietly, “Did I really kill Jack?”

“Yeah,” breathed Rhys, almost paralysed by their closeness, feeling the heat of his skin even through their clothes. “I was down for the count, and then there you were. Swooping in and saving me like you always do.”

“How’d I do it?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“You...pretty much caved his skull in. I’m not gonna lie, it was kinda nasty. But impressive.”

“Huh. Cool.” He raised his eyebrows approvingly. Rhys sometimes forgot about the violent streak he’d nurtured since coming to Pandora – but he certainly didn’t dislike it.

At last he decided to take the risk and slip his right arm around Vaughn’s waist, and was rewarded by his friend leaning in to rest his head on his shoulder. The clouds were clearing, and he finally dared to ask the most important question of all.

“Are we good, bro?”

“Yeah. We’re good.” Vaughn gave his knee a small squeeze. “I mean, I’m still a _little_ mad.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” murmured Rhys, nuzzling at his ear. “And now you _know_ it’s all me.”

“You are unbelievable,” he said, but when he looked up he could not quite hold back the laugh.

They were so close now that there was nothing for Rhys to do but lean in and kiss him. Vaughn responded eagerly, arching up to meet him with an enthusiasm that left him momentarily dazed, and before he knew it they were clinging to each other like survivors on a lifeboat, the world falling away around them as they embraced.

“You don’t need to hide anything from me,” Vaughn whispered against his lips.

“Then you should probably know I’m, like, stupidly in love with you,” replied Rhys.

"Mmm. Good to know."

A third voice broke through their dreamy, distracted bubble. “Whoaaa, cool, looks like you guys have made up,” Yvette said loudly, averting her gaze as she jogged back into the room behind an impatient Sokolova.

Vaughn jumped back, covering his mouth with the back of one hand. Rhys tried and failed to stifle a giggle.

“Enough,” said the scientist. “I need to speak privately with Rhys.”

He gave his friends a thumbs-up full of fake confidence and let her haul him away to an office down the corridor. It was not like Hyperion offices had been, all chrome and lights; instead there was a huge bookshelf taking up one wall, the titles an even split between computing and psychology, and heavy wooden furniture that could have been hundreds of years old but was still polished to perfection.

Sokolova settled into a luxurious leather wing-back chair, motioning for him to sit on the other side of the massive desk in a much less impressive seat. He felt very small, though he supposed that was the point.

“You say he appeared in the simulation,” she began. “You are obviously...close.”

Rhys cleared his throat. “Yeah, you could say that.”

The scientist nodded, almost smiling. “He is a good man. He has already offered to replace the window.”

“Sorry about that, by the way.”

She waved away his apologies, spreading a new array of papers across the table.

“At almost the same time as Jack’s signal vanished, you entered an unusual alpha state.” Sokolova pointed at a region of the trace where the recorded activity went almost instantly from frantic spikes to a slow, calm rhythm; she looked up, narrowed eyes boring into him. “Two-phase slow-wave activity. Tell me what you saw.”

Even though all he saw was lines on the page, Rhys found himself remembering Prime and the otherworldly experience of staring himself in the eyes – and questioning his own fashion sense.

“I saw myself,” he said plainly. “From the past. He said he wanted to talk to me.”

Her face was inscrutable, raised eyebrows the only sign she had heard; the silence made him nervous, so he tried to think of something to say.

“Is that not meant to happen? Got a pretty good pep talk out of it.”

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk. “The Psychodynamo project was intended to help people. It ended up as the plaything of bored executives living out their fantasies. But you...you are different.”

“Uh...thanks,” he said awkwardly, folding his hands in his lap.

“Let me study you,” she said, earnest and serious.

He cringed at the thought of handing over his mental processes to someone again, well-meaning expert or not. “I dunno. I’d really rather not...go through that again.”

“Jack is gone, Rhys. I promise you that.” Something that could have been kindness crossed her face, a light behind her eyes. “Cybernetic enhancements, computer expertise, and a modicum of actual self-reflection – with your help, I could make this device _mean_ something.”

If it had been any normal person, he would have thought she was pleading. It was touching in a strange way. An idea came to him, and he leaned in conspiratorially.

“How about a deal? I’ve got this company. We’re trying to get off the ground, and we could use an awesome programmer.” Rhys flashed his most charming grin, more to feel like he was playing the part than any sincere belief it would make a difference.

Sokolova sat back in her chair for a moment, quietly contemplating.

“Interesting.” She rose to her feet, motioned for him to stand up as well, then offered her hand. “I will...consider it.”

He answered the handshake with great enthusiasm and very little certainty, but at last it felt like he was ready to step into the unknown future. “Thanks for taking a chance on an idiot like me, Doc. Pretty sure you saved my life.”

“One more question,” interrupted Sokolova, placing a hand on the doorknob before he could reach it. “What do you wish to do with this?”

She held out the old ECHO-Eye, letting it dangle from her thin fingers. He made no move to take it.

“I want that as far from me as possible,” he answered darkly. “And preferably in a trash compactor. I’ll get you another copy of Nakayama’s files – just burn that thing.”

Satisfied, she pocketed the device and led him back to the observation room, where Vaughn and Yvette sprang up to meet them. Rhys pulled both of his friends into a tight group hug that lasted for ages, none of them wanting to be the first to let go.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

“Anything for you, bro,” said Vaughn, voice muffled against Rhys’ chest.

When they finally separated, the tall man had a huge grin plastered across his face. “We should celebrate! Come to the Skag with us tonight, Yvette?”

“Sure. As long as you two don’t just make out the whole time,” she said, smirking.

“No promises,” Rhys answered with a wink, followed by a small yelp as Vaughn elbowed him in the ribs.

The four of them made their way unhurriedly out of the building in a companionable silence, the place seeming so much less strange and convoluted than when they had arrived. Outside in the setting sun, Sokolova motioned to them all to stand back.

She leaned in through the open driver’s-side door without a word and turned the key in the ignition. The car half-coughed, half-roared to life; she tossed the silver threads of the ECHO-Eye to the ground in line with the tyres, and beckoned Rhys over.

“You should do the honours, young man.”

He wasted no time in taking her up on the offer, flattered that she would trust him with the veteran beast. Slipping into the hard, threadbare seat, he wrapped his metal fingers around the handbrake and revved the engine experimentally.

“You lose again, Jack,” he muttered savagely, before rolling the miniature tank forwards until he heard the splintering of delicate glass and metal below. He replayed the sound in his head before sticking the car in reverse and running over the wrecked device one more time – just to make sure. It earned him a round of applause from the others; even Sokolova deigned to clap her hands a few times, though she hurried over to take back her car even before he came to a complete stop.

“You can sit up front if you want, Legs,” said Yvette as he was hustled out of the driver's seat.

Rhys looked over at Vaughn, smiling gently. “Nah. I’m good.”

The fragments of his old cybernetic wiring glittered behind them in the golden sun as the car drove away, but he hardly paid them any attention. Instead, he reached across the back seat with his palm facing up, heart taking flight as Vaughn placed a warm hand on top, their fingers intertwining as if they belonged that way.

“Let’s go home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed following this story - I definitely had an awesome time writing it. This is kind of a big deal for me - I am usually *so* bad at finishing fics, but there was no way I was letting this one go.
> 
> Watch this space for Gayperion fluff, Gayperion smut and silly comedy. Maybe even Rhack smut, but it will never take the place of my OTP.


End file.
